The Long Way Home
by SleepingSeeker
Summary: Leo & Raph's rivalry and fighting has never been more intense. One night of anger lands the two brothers into a nightmare scenario. Captured by old enemies, a new evil is revealed. A possible ally is made, but who's side is she really on? My first ff, I hope you enjoy it! Rated T for violence, swearing, and suggestive themes!
1. Chapter 1

Notes: this takes place within the story structure of the recent reboot of the Ninja Turtles on Nickelodeon. Though I've been a fan since they were first published, this new reboot has captured my imagination. That being said, I like to keep Raph a bit more edgy, more like the comics. In my version, Leonardo is a year older than Raphael, Donatello is a year younger than Raph and Mikey is the youngest. I prefer the origin story of the Nickelodeon version with Splinter being the mutated form of Hamato Yoshi. Splinter is their teacher and like a father to the turtles. I have my own take on the rivalry between Shredder and Splinter. I do have a few OC's that will be introduced along the way. This is my first ff story and I appreciate any feedback.

**Prologue**:

The music pulsed. It's heavy rhythm seeming to come from everywhere. It was a pounding assault against his ears, vibrating his shell, making him more disoriented than he already was from the drug they had shot into his neck earlier. His feet shuffled and he stumbled forward, unable to catch himself. His hands were bound behind him. Raphael gritted his teeth and braced for the impact, but the foot soldiers escorting him grabbed him roughly by his upper arms, stopping his fall and pushing him forward through the crowd. Hands smacked at him as he walked on. Taunting voices calling rude remarks rose up around him. Something was thrown at him, hitting him in the head and shoulders.

The escort stopped him. He heard a scraping sound like a metal grate opening. His hands were suddenly ripped free from the rope and the burlap bag pulled quickly from his head. Before he could turn to face the three soldiers who brought him there, one of the men kicked him in the back. The force of the blow knocked him forward and he landed on his hands and knees on to the gravel covered floor. The crowd roared. The ground swayed and he shook his head trying to get some clarity. Then he became aware that the frenzy of voices suddenly went quiet. The rhythmic music flooded down from above him, making it harder to focus on where he was and what was happening. He raised his head, blinking in the smoky light, trying in vain to clear his blurred vision. His head swam and he felt waves of exhaustion and nausea wash over him. He swallowed and took in a ragged breath.

He was in some sort of large cage. Stadium-style seats rose up around it, filled with dozens of people crowded together, some wearing the uniform of the foot clan. The best seat of the house, separated from the rest to allow for the best view, directly in front of where Raphael knelt, belonged to none other than the Shredder.

The blades covering his arms and shoulders gleamed. His hands tented in front of his face, head bent slightly forward, eyes regarding the visibly shaken turtle. His low, threatening voice spoke, cutting through the oppressive bass of the music.

"Begin."

Another gate opened to Raphael's right. An enormous man, clad in nothing but black jeans, steel-toed boots and tattoos, stepped inside. Raph knew his situation had just gone from bad to much, much worse.

**One Week Earlier...**

It was late in the afternoon as Raph paced back and forth across the floor throwing a few punches in the air as he did. Splinter had their practice end early that morning. He and Leo were just getting warmed up and before he knew it, Splinter cut in between them. There'd been nothing to do all day afterwards. Splinter felt the brothers needed some down time, but Raph disagreed. He felt antsy and had wanted to finish the sparring session with his older brother. Splinter would not allow it. Instead he had to put up with Mikey's pranks and bad jokes all day while Leo played chess with Donatello before settling in for some meditating. The boredom he felt was beginning to take on a physical presence in the lair. There'd been no trouble for weeks from neither the purple dragons nor the foot. No fun, no excitement...except that one night, a few weeks ago...his memory began to drift back before he caught himself. No, Raph shook his head. He was beginning to think that night was a dream or hallucination or something...

A crash shattered the quiet bringing Raph to attention. It came from Donatello's room. Raph glanced at Leo. Leo didn't move. He remained where he had been for the past hour, seated on the large cushion across the room, meditating. His eyes closed, legs crossed in lotus position, hands rested on the top of his knees. Raph looked from him to the doorway where the racket was coming from and thought to himself, _yeah, you're so deep in meditation you didn't hear that, right?_

"Yikes!" Michelangelo yelped as he sprinted into the room, vaulted over the back of their worn couch, grabbed a comic and quickly pretended to be engrossed in the story. Donatello stormed into the room holding two pieces of metal...something.

"Mikey, I told you to stay outta my room! Look at what you did!"

Mikey peeked over his shoulder. A look of innocence on his face.

"Hm? Oh, hi, Donnie. Were you talking to me?"

Donatello ignored the act. "Do you know how long I've been working on this?"

Mikey shook his head. Donnie sighed and pointed one broken piece at his guilty brother, "Just stay out of my room, okay? I catch you in there messing with my inventions again, I'm putting you on scrap-detail next time I go scavenging in the slimy part of the junk yard."

Mikey ducked his head and mumbled, "Okay, okay, sorry, man. Just wanted to see how it worked." Mikey smiled and shrugged at Raph as Donatello marched back into his room. "Whatcha up to bro?"

"You have a gift of breaking everything you touch, Mikey," he said with a shake of his head.

Raph stepped up to the punching bag and took a few swings as the lair settled back into the partial quiet that made up most afternoons. He swung. Right, left, left again. The poompf, poompf sound, the only noise above the occasional turning of Mikey's comic pages. _Ugh_. The ceiling felt like it was beginning to press down on him. If he stayed here any longer he'd start screaming. One more right hook. Poompf. Then he marched off without a word to anyone.

Mikey watched Raph go with a sense of dread stirring in his gut. He had tried his best to keep things light in the lair today, but tension was boiling up. Before he could say anything, he caught movement from the corner of his eye and saw Leo open his eyes and shift to one knee. He was watching Raph go as well. Not so deep in meditation after all. Leo stood, his eyes glued to the exit where Raph had just left.

_Oh boy, not again_, Mikey thought. He hated when his brothers fought. There was a tendency for their fights to get ugly so quickly. And it was happening more and more lately too. They couldn't be in the same room without Leo criticizing. Or Raph blowing his temper. Why couldn't they just fight like he and Donnie did. A quick blow up, apologies made and forgiveness given. How hard is that? But Mikey knew it would never be that way between his older brothers. Michelangelo jumped to his feet, the comic thrown to the floor. Quickly and quietly as he could, he followed Leo out.

Donnie walked back into the room. "Hey, does anyone know where I left my..." Seeing the living area empty he stopped and sighed. "Ohh kay." He said to himself and turned on his heel and went back to his room. "Finally some peace and quiet. Maybe I can get these tracking devices working," he said to himself.

Mikey really didn't have a plan when he followed Leonardo, he just wanted to possibly catch up with Raph before Leo did. He thought maybe he could warn him or if he caught up with Leo before he confronted Raph, he could ask that his brother give Raphael a break this time. He seemed to Mikey to have been especially grumpy and distracted recently. Something more than what usually bugged Raph was going on. He moved quickly through the sewer, hoping with each step he'd catch one of them. But he wasn't quick enough. He should've known better, he heard voices up ahead and they didn't sound friendly. He walked towards the sound, one hand nervously trailing along the cracked bricks.

"What do ya want, Leo?" Raph's rough voice bounced along the tunnel.

Leo asked calmly, "Where are you go-"

"None of your business," Raph spat before Leo could finish.

Mikey moved around a slight bend in the tunnel to find Leo and Raph standing a few feet away, facing each other. Leo stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest and Raph was standing with his shell to a ladder. Mikey knew that this exit led up to an industrial park. He had followed Raph a few times out of curiosity but never managed to track him to his destination. Raph was too fast and stealthy.

"You can't keep going off on your own like this, Raphael."

"Who's gonna stop me? You?" The aggressive tone was there. Raph's eyes narrowed, ready to fight, hoping for it. Leo could see it plainly on his brother's face.

Leo sighed and pinched his eyes closed. This wasn't turning out right, but what did he expect. This was how their conversations had been going for months now. And since about three weeks ago, Raph had been really irritable and hardly spoke at all to him. When they exchange a few words, it ended in a fight each time. Leo took in a steadying breath and tried a different tack.

"Splinter wouldn't want you going out on your own. He worries, Raph." He paused, searching Raphael's face. Raph only stared at him, arms crossed. Leo sighed in irritation. "You should at least get permission first."

Raph snorted, "Oh, and be a good little boy like you, Leo? I don't think so. The lair only has enough room for one suck up in it."

Leo blinked hard at the insult and frowned. At the complete disregard of their sensei's feelings, he felt the calm slipping away from him and his own anger rising now.

"Besides, I can take care of myself. I don't need you..." Raph poked a finger into Leo's chest, "...bossin' me around or babysitting me, got it?"

Leo slapped away Raph's hand. Raphael's eyes narrowed.

"Don't poke me again," Leonardo said slowly, his voice low.

"I'm sorry, did you say _something_?" Raph taunted and poked Leo again, this time hard enough to make him step back. Leo smacked his hand away harder. Raph shoved Leo in the chest making him take two steps back.

While Leo was a more skilled and graceful fighter, he couldn't match Raph's bulk and brut strength. Their sparring matches were getting more and more intense with Splinter calling an abrupt end earlier and earlier into them. Just then, Mikey jumped from the shadows. He had to stop this before it got ugly. He got between his two brothers who were now grappling with each other. Growling and cursing filled the air.

"...you little suck up!" Raph said between gritted teeth. "Don't tell me what...to do!"

"You...stubborn ass!" Leo snapped back.

"Whoa, whoa, hey!" Mikey grabbed Leo and Raph's forearm and tried to pull them apart. Raph grabbed him by the face and pushed him hard.

"Stay outa this, runt!"

Mikey stumbled backwards, but jumped back in the fray just as Raph took a swing at Leo's face. Leo gracefully dodged the blow, but Mikey wasn't as quick. Raphael's fist struck him squarely in the jaw. Mikey's head snapped to the right. The impact knocked him back. He fell off the platform into the water.

Leo pulled away from Raph and jumped down to help Mikey up. He shook his head, his hand pressed against his cheek. With the back of his hand, he wiped a wide smear of blood from the corner of his mouth. Leo shot Raphael a furious look.

"_Real nice, Raph_."

Raph sputtered, "I told him to stay outta it."

Leo looked at Mikey's mouth. "You okay?"

Mikey stuck a finger and felt around, his cheek bulging. He Winced. "I think I lost a tooth..."

Leo looked back to where Raph had been standing only to find it empty. Ugh!

"Typical. Causes trouble then runs for it. I swear when I get a hold of him..."

"C'mon, Leo. It was an accident."

Leo looked at his younger brother, the one who was always quick to be understanding and be on your side. Then his eyes trailed to the blood dribbling down his brother's mouth and he felt the anger rise up again in his chest. _Accident_, he thought and snorted. That punch was meant for his face. He was sick and tired of Raph taking out his emotional problems on the rest of them. This was enough. He was going to need to settle this before Mikey or Donnie got in the way again and ended up really hurt. This would be the last time. They weren't going to bear the brunt of Raph's inner demons anymore.

He wrapped an arm loosely around Michelangelo's shoulders and together they made their way back to the lair.


	2. Chpt 2: A Taste of Freedom

**Chapter Two**

_Three weeks earlier..._

She ran a brush through her hair. Her blond layers flowed over her shoulder. A slight rapping came from the door a few feet from where she sat. She turned on the short stool, putting the brush down.

"Come in," she said.

"Deborah," her brother smiled as he stepped inside, closing the door behind his back. He took in the fact that his sister was in her uniform, knee-high boots on her feet. He frowned.

"Are you going out again?"

She didn't answer, only leveled a look at him.

"You can't! Not without orders..."

He trailed off as his sister only continued to stare at him. He wanted to protest more. The words died in his throat. He knew it was no use. She wasn't one to ever follow any rules. This had never been a problem between them before, but things were different now. They weren't on their own anymore. This was a good set-up for both of them. Why couldn't she accept that his idea actually panned out. Her actions were going to mess everything up. And for what? For once in his life he was the one with an actual plan. He had a future here. He found acceptance. And for once he belonged somewhere where someone other than his sister took interest in his ideas and well-being. Why couldn't she see that she was going to ruin it all for him?

"TJ," he cringed at the childhood nickname and interrupted, "I told you not to call me that anymore, it's Tyler, that's all." He stood a little straighter as he said it and Deborah suppressed a laugh, but couldn't hide her smirk.

"Right, TJ, I have been more than happy to play along. This was one of your best ideas ever, but it's been three years and I'm feeling...I don't know, suffocated. Besides, I have a feeling like we're wearing out our welcome.'"

"That's only because you refuse to listen to simple orders, Deb."

Now it was her turn to narrow her eyes. "Call me that again and you'll regret it." She stood. He crossed his arms still in front of the doorway. Blocking it. There wasn't much room for the two of them in her 9'x9' bunker-like room that was assigned to her.

"We have it made here! The Foot is great and the training...we're being trained as _ninjas_ for crying out loud!"

"The last three years have been fun, sure, but things are getting...complicated for me, I mean, giant mutant turtles? Did you hear what the guy dressed in pointy blades said the other day? TJ, the guy in charge of this place is nuts. This isn't just some gang. Everyone kneeling in front of him when he came onto the stage?" She frowned with the memory.

"This is like some kind of...of...I don't know, cult! They should call this the Foot Cult not the Foot Clan. And the longer we're here the deeper we're getting. This was supposed to be only for a few months, remember? This was supposed to be temporary and we were going to move on. Canada, remember?"

Before he could respond, she pushed past her little brother and stormed out into the long hallway. He quickly followed behind.

They walked past identical doors on either side of the walls. No one had locks on their doors because no one had any real possessions, besides the uniform they'd been given and the clothes she showed up in three years ago, she had nothing but a hairbrush to call her own. When they were first brought in, their meager possesions were taken. She still yearned for the small crow bar and mini-bat she had in her pack that had served her so well in the years they'd been on the streets together. But the pack was long gone.

She hated feeling defenseless. Any weapons were locked up or on display in the work out and sparring centers on the lower levels of the compound. Only soldiers who had earned the right owned personal weapons that they kept on themselves always. As they moved down the long hallway, they passed door after door which lead to exact replicas of her own room.

"Look, just be careful, okay." He reached out to her. "I want to stay...Don't mess things up for me."

She stopped and he nearly ran into her, his boots squeaked against the linoleum under his feet.

"Mess things up for you?" She frowned, the sting of his thoughtless remark felt like a smack to her face. "When have I ever messed things up for you?! I've only spent the last seven years of my life doing everything I knew how to keep you safe!"

He looked down abashed.

"I didn't mean it, Deb..Deborah."

He smiled and shrugged as her mouth pressed into a thin line. When he looked like that he looked to Deborah like the little kid he was, so long ago now, when they first ran away from that hellhole of an orphanage. When she promised him that no matter what, she'd always protect him.

He continued, "I'm trying to tell you I like it here, but you won't listen. I could..."

He hesitated and she looked at him, the image of the sweet vulnerable little boy fading away, revealing the seventeen year old before her. Her heart contracted a bit. Yes, a young man now, one who looked so much older in the foot uniform, and had he grown recently? She didn't remember him towering over her last time they stood this close. But looking older or not, she wouldn't give up her promise to him just yet.

He went on, "I could really become something here."

She shook her head.

"The nutcase running his place sends one message to me, we have to get away from these people while we still can."

"No." And the determined expression on his face caught her off guard.

Just then a door opened and a young man stepped out of his room. He looked up and had a shocked expression when he noticed them just outside his door. His eyes jumped from Deborah to Tyler then back again and lingered there, taking in the lovely view.

"Uh, hi. Deborah isn't it?"

"Yeah, hi," she mumbled. She glanced at her brother, shooting him a dirty look. They'd have to finish their conversation later.

"And you're her brother, right, TJ-"

"Tyler," he corrected. "It's Tyler James."

"Are you heading for the training room? It's a little early for it," he looked at Deborah and a smile spread across his face as his eyes dropped lower.

"If your going, I'll be happy to be your sparring partner."

_I bet you would, **jerk**_, she thought.

She looked him up and down while he continued to stare like an ass. Well, he wasn't bad looking, dark hair, brown eyes...good build. She couldn't remember his name. It was hard to tell any of these guys apart, especially when they all wore the same dark uniform. Though this one did fill it out rather nicely, she decided. There weren't many female soldiers here and that made some things harder and some things easier.

She smiled sweetly.

"Maybe some other time." And patted him on the arm. He immediately flexed his bicep. She tilted her head approvingly and with a wink turned on her heel to leave.

"Uh, breakfast then! Are you going to the mess hall?" He asked desperately and she kept walking, ignoring him and sensing her brother glaring at her as she did. She called over her shoulder.

"No appetite this morning, sorry."

The young man turned and looked at Tyler who shrugged as if to say, women. The man turned back to follow her when Tyler put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, I wouldn't mind hitting the sparring room before eating, do you mind showing me a few blocks. Sensei Tenhk told me I needed to work on it more and I've seen you on the mats. Your good."

"Huh? You've seen me? Has your sister noticed?"

He looked from Tyler to where his sister left and back again, debating what was a better choice going after her or getting in good with her little brother.

"Oh, yeah, I think, in fact, she was saying something about you the other day."

That caught his attention. He looked intently at Tyler.

"She did?!"

"Mhm." Tyler turned and the man followed, "I think so, what's your name again?"

"Robert," he said, "Robert Mckinley."

"Yep, definitely," he said with a nod. The things he did to cover for his sister. She better not get caught leaving today.

Deborah continued down the hallway, past a couple of foot soldiers standing near the stairway. They were talking in low voices, she didn't catch much and didn't want to linger, but she did hear the word "turtles " and rolled her eyes. _Nut cases_, she thought.

They didn't look up or even notice her and as she slipped away from them into the stairwell. She closed her eyes in relief. She hurried down two levels, skipping down the stairs on her toes. She slowly opened the door to the hallway a crack and took a peek. No one was around. They must be waking up or heading for breakfast, she thought. Perfect. She slipped into the hallway, crept silently down to the end.

On every other floor, Deborah discovered there were supply closets located at the far end of the hallways. Most were filled with basic supplies; towels, cleaning supplies, first aid, typical stuff. But on this level there was a particular supply closet she found to be very useful.

Back to the closet door, glancing around again, she reached inside the strap of her bra and slipped out a small, tear-shaped throwing star, she called them teardrops. It was only about the size of a quarter with a surprising weight on it for being so tiny and delicate. The round part being wickedly sharp. Carefully, she twisted it so that the pointed end stuck out and jiggled it into the lock in the doorknob. The lock made a slight snip sound and with a smile she slid inside the closet.

She had cut up her hand pretty badly the first time she noticed them lying on the weapons' practice room floor and picked it up. Though small, she was delighted to have some type of weapon on her. Someone on cleanup duty missed a few every once in a while, but she had been paying attention. Without anyone noticing, she had collected them and hidden them within little pockets she cut into her bra.

With care, she slid the tear-drop back into the pocket and maneuvered to the back of the closet. There was a window not too far up in the back wall. It was how she had been coming and going without permission the last few months. She probably would have been ready to leave sooner if she hadnt found this escape route. As long as she was able to have a little freedom, she endured, at her brother's insistence, their stay with this cult known as The Foot Clan.

The window was closed as usual. She pulled a crate over and stood on her toes to reach the lock. Using her thumb, she slid it open and pushed the window outward. Bracing her right leg against the wall, she hoisted herself up. The opening was just large enough for her to hook her left leg through. She contorted her body a bit, scrunching up her face with the effort and squeezed out, hanging by her fingers. Then with closed eyes, she dropped twelve or so feet to the ground with a soft crumpling sound and a grunt, broke into a roll and launched her body into the cover of the thick overgrowth growing behind the rear of the compound. A small area of trees offered more coverage as she quickly moved through, until, following the rise of the land she came out into a clearing cut through the middle with railroad tracks. With glee, she left a soft whoop! escape her mouth as she hurried down the length of tracks, then up and over into the weedy overgrowth on the other side.

She spent the day as she usually did when she got away. Mostly staying near the tracks, thinking, planning their next move. She was thinking about what her brother had said to her that morning as she nibbled on a piece of bread she nicked from the open back door of a bakery. She took a seat near a retention pond and finished her bread. A few white gulls circled above her. Their high-pitched calls pierced the silence. It had been a while since she last got out. The day was a beauty. Blue sky, warm breeze...she sighed. The day was passing too quickly. She knew she should head back, but decided she wouldn't be missed if she lingered into the evening. It's not like they did roll call or anything.

Dusk deepened the hue of the sky and the stars began to twinkle above her dozing head. In the distance music began to play. She sat up. It must be later than I thought. The rhythmic beat brought her to her feet. She brushed off the leaves and twigs and headed towards the music.

Before long she found the source of the sound. A night club of sorts. She smirked and took in the line of kids filing in. Their dark goth clothes and brightly colored hair told her what type of place this was. But she liked the music, maybe she'd stay for a dance, but not inside. Not in this uniform. She looked up at the four story brick building and reached up, grabbed hold of the fire escape and climbed on. She continued to climb until she was on the roof. The floor vibrated with the pounding of the bass. She took in the view.

_Not bad_.

Around the building she stood on were various factories and similarly shaped structures. Looking to the east, she could see the opening of the granite quarry. The artificial lights it gave off an eerie blue glow. She looked west and her breath caught.

Someone was there in the shadows. She froze, her mind whirling. Should she bolt? Was she seen? Was it anyone to even worry about? she reached into her pocket and pulled out the foot clan's mask and slipped it on. She hated wearing it, but felt safer with it on. The figure turned and she saw its stance stiffen.

_Oh no_, _spotted_.

Fight or run? She turned to run when the figure pulled something from its sides. The things were metal and they gleamed in the light. Weapons?!

_Oh shit, I guess it might be fight after all_.

Still she dashed to the left. And only got a few steps when he was right in front of her. Startled at what she saw, her feet were scrambling away, heels digging into the surface of the roof. Blinking in disbelief, her mind not accepting what was before her eyes, stupid gasping sounds breaking free from her mouth involuntarily, she retreated. Was it real? A hand shot out and she quickly blocked. It _was_ real and it was attacking her! Anger wiped away the surprise and fear.

"What the hell!" She shouted, her voice muffled from the mask.

Then she remembered what she was wearing and the attack made sense. Two more blows came and she was suddenly very, very grateful for the training she had gotten the last few years from the Foot. Her mind and body synced and she started attacking back. He dodged her attempts effortlessly. Her hair became a tangled mess, the friction from the mask causing it to clot in front of her face, breaking her focus and distracting her.

"That all you got?" The voice was rough but not unpleasant. "What are ya, a rookie?"

She couldn't believe it. He was _taunting_ her.

"Dammit!" She cursed and he laughed at her! He swung out his foot in a round-house kick and it caught her square in the stomach.

"Ugh!" She staggered backwards. Trying to remember how to breathe as stars exploded in front of her vision, she fell to her knees. She reached up and pulled off the masked as he advanced on her. He stopped abruptly only a foot or so away from where she knelt.

"What the..."

She kept one hand up in supplication as she felt the pain ease off. As it did, rage replaced it.

She swept her leg around and caught his ankles knocking him onto his back. Before he could move she was on him, straddling his chest, her knees pinning his arms to his sides. The turtle's body went perfectly still. She pressed one teardrop below his jaw, the razor edge biting into his skin. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath her thigh. She leaned down. Her face was inches from his. Her blond hair fell in a mess over both their faces. Their breath came in heavy gasps that slowed as they stared into each other's eyes.

"Y...You're a girl," Raphael stammered.

She couldn't believe her eyes. Fascination swept over her. His voice, the very fact of his existence. They were real. The madman was right. What was happening to the world she lived in?

"You're real..." She breathed.

Raphael swallowed and blinked. Slowly she moved the teardrop from the side of his neck and sat up. She slid it back into its place, the turtle's eyes watching her every move. She then eased her knees off his arms and slid lower, her hands trailing the lines of his plastron covered chest and stomach. A tremor went through his body. Without thinking she smiled. Her hand pressed gently above his heart. She noticed it was hammering under her palm.

"Amazing," she said quietly more to herself than him.

Then, before she could think about it, question it or even stop herself, she leaned down and kissed him. His lips were soft against hers, softer than she would have guessed. She lingered in the sweetness of it and then in one swift move slid off him. He let out a soft gasp as she bent and retrieved his sai from where it had slipped out of his grasp when her knee pinned his arm. She held it to her chest and shot him a smile, tilting her head to one side before running to the edge of the building where she had climbed up and vaulted over the side, disappearing from his view.

"Wait!" She heard his voice call out as she jumped down from the fire escape.

She ran the rest of the way to the railroad tracks never stopping once to see if she was followed, clutching his sai to her chest as she ran. A sense of wondrous joy pushed her forward, her feet dancing across the ground as she raced. Her life had just become a more mysterious and adventurous place than she ever thought possible. Everything was different now. She couldn't wait to tell TJ they were real.


	3. Chpt 3: Accountability

**Chapter Three**

As Leonardo and Mikey entered the lair they a concerned Splinter greeted them. Immediately, Splinter's gaze found the blood on Michelangelo's cheek.

"What is this?" He asked sharply.

Michelangelo pulled a chair out and sat down at the kitchen table as Leo rummaged around for ice. He produced a small cloth bag that hung limply from his grasp. He sighed. Splinter moved closer to Michelangelo, his eyes taking in Mikey's apparent discomfort.

"I take it the freezer is on the fritz again," Leo mumbled to himself. He handed the bag to Mikey anyway who placed it on his head. "Uh, that's for your jaw, Mikey."

"I know," he replied. "But my head hurts, too."

"_Leonardo_," Splinter said, the tone in his voice warned him. Splinter wasn't going to wait long for his son to explain. He pulled out a chair and sat next to Michelangelo, never taking his amber eyes off Leonardo.

Leo stood behind Mikey and slowly moved until he was across the table from Splinter, but he didn't take a seat. Instead he stood with hands resting on the back of the chair. He blinked, looking anywhere but directly at his father. He took a breath and started, "Raph left the lair and I followed him," he paused, "then he and I started arguing."

Splinter listened intently, the only move he made was a small twitch of his ear.

Leo continued, "Mikey got caught up in it."

"It's no biggie, Splinter." Michelangelo cut in. "I tried to break them up."

Splinter sat up straighter in his chair at this. "Break them up? So, not merely an argument. More...physical than that." Splinter shot a disappointed look at Leo who shifted his feet.

"It started as an argument, but h...he provoked me," Leonardo said, hating the defensive tone in his voice.

"I see. So, despite my _many_ objections to you and Raphael about using force to come to an understanding, you continue to find reasons why it is acceptable to come to blows with your younger brother." Splinter's quiet voice hit Leo as though he'd shouted.

Leonardo gritted his teeth. The weight of Splinter's disappointment constricted around his throat. He licked his lips, though his tongue was suddenly very dry. Splinter's gaze bore into him, making any eye contact nearly impossible. Leo's grip on the back of the chair tightened.

_This isn't fair_, he thought.

"Master, I was just...he...He wasn't following the rules," Leo stumbled on, "your rules. He was going out again, without even telling anyone. Without your permission." Now the pleading in his voice was plain, and Leo cast his eyes down in shame as Splinter slowly shook his head.

Donatello walked into the room just then and took in the scene before him. Splinter stared at Leonardo, his tail swished impatiently and Leo looked like he just swallowed something rancid, a mixture of embarrassment and guilt on his face, then he noticed the little bag on Mikey's head.

"What happened? You get slugged?" Donnie asked, only half-joking.

Mikey released a nervous chuckle, shrugged and nodded, relieved to have a break from the tension building in the room. He wanted to slide away from the table five minutes ago, but didn't want to draw any attention to himself. So, instead he'd concentrated on trying to shrink down as small as possible in his chair.

"I knew the quiet in the lair wasn't a good sign," Donatello said.

"This would feel a lot better if it was cold, dude." He teased and held up the floppy bag with his finger and thumb.

"I'll get right on it," Donatello said sarcastically.

Ignoring the exchange between his younger brothers, Leonardo continued to address Splinter. "I'm going to go get Raphael and bring him home. And I...I won't let this happen again, Master."

Splinter gave him a curt nod. "See to it. I remind you, that it falls on _you_" he pointed a claw at Leo, "to maintain harmony and set the example for your younger siblings. We will not endure if our family continues on this path."

"Hai, Sensei," Leo said, his fist in his open palm, head bowed low to Splinter.

"Go."

Splinter turned in his seat dismissing Leo without another word and gently moved Mikey's face towards him. He tsked. "Let me get you a clean rag, my son." All the anger in his voice now replaced with gentle concern. Mikey nearly sighed in relief.

Leo straightened. He blinked a few times. His cheeks burned from Splinter's admonishment of him and angry dismissal. He stepped backwards away from the table and turned to go.

"Wait, Leo," Donatello said. "Here, before you go." He stood up as Leo watched him with mild curiosity. He held a small square of metal up to Leo's face.

"It's something I've developed. A sort of, tracker for us. It doesn't have great range, but that's something I can keep working on. In the meantime," he reached behind the side of Leo's neck and snapped it under the slight ridge of his shell. "If you get separated or turned around we can find each other."

Leo nodded, then said softly with a smile, "_turned around_."

Donnie shrugged, "It could happen. Here's one for the hothead." He placed it in Leonardo's hand who then slipped it into a small pouch on his belt. With a pat on the arm from Donatello, Leo turned and hurried out.

...

Out of the sewers and into the fresh air, Raphael felt instantly better. Finally, he could breathe! But his good feelings marred by a tug of his conscience. Of course, he'd have preferred it if Mikey hadn't gotten the punch he threw at Leo. He grimaced as guilt stabbed him. He didn't mean to hit him. But that really wasn't all his fault, he reasoned. He tried to tell Mikey to stay out of it. Hell, he even shoved him out of the way. It wasn't the first time Mikey tried to get in the middle when he and Leo were fighting. He had to learn to mind his own business. Anger flashed inside Raph.

_I'm sure Leo blames it all on me_, he thought. He's probably at the lair now making it like he beat Mikey up or something.

He stopped at the corner of a red brick building. The sound of the back of a truck rolling closed froze him in his tracks. The engine grumbled and a delivery truck sped down the parking lot and past him where he hid behind a large trash container. Raph counted to five and when he saw and heard nothing more he continued weaving his way behind the factories. As he moved on his thoughts wandered back to the source of his angry feelings.

Why did Leo have to give him such a hard time about _everything_? If he would've just let him go, there would've been no fight and Mikey wouldn't have gotten in the middle. He just needed to get out and breathe a little. Was that so wrong?

"Leo just has to be the boss," he grumbled to himself. "Well, he ain't the boss of me."

Fists tight at his sides, he continued dashing between the long low factories that filled the industrial park. He liked roaming about at this time of the day. Usually the day workers were already gone and the night shift had filed inside getting to work in the factories that stayed open. But most of these places in this industrial park seemed to keep regular hours. He almost never ran into any people. A few trucks sat in the lots but other than that the place was deserted.

He found the gray and white shipping and receiving building that had the metal ladder giving access to the roof. He didn't know why it was there, but he was glad they left it. He began to climb. Once on top he ran to the edge and with an easy jump he was on the next building. Here the factories were clustered so close together he leapt from roof to roof with ease.

Twilight gave way to the deepening dark as he moved. The air, though still officially summer, had the chill to it that whispered autumn. It made his skin prickle but wasn't unpleasant.

He knew the way by heart now, for each night he got away he took the same route. Each night hoping that maybe he would see her again. He stopped to catch his breath. The four-story building was just ahead. The sign above the front door read_ Ke-ji_, in script-like lettering. He thought perhaps it meant something in Japanese but he couldn't be sure. And there wasn't any way he'd ask Splinter in case it meant club or something that would give him away. He'd have to ask Donnie to look it up for him sometime.

He'd discovered the night club a few months ago. He enjoyed running between the buildings in the industrial park because the terrain offered a challenging mix of concrete, overgrowth and various heights of buildings. When he heard the music that first night, immediately he was drawn to it. Something in the hypnotic beat lured him closer. Soon, it became one of his favorite places to go and blow off steam. He'd lay on the roof feeling the bass vibrating through him and he'd close his eyes, imagining what it would be like to be able to go in the front door. To slip in and vanish in the mass of bodies, moving with them, flowing like a shadow invisibly through them to get closer to the speakers, the source of the sound.

Then one night she appeared out of nowhere.

The memories of that brief encounter flashed through his mind. When she pulled off the mask, the way her hair fell across his face, the weight of her body on him, feeling pinned and unable to move when really he could've _easily_..._easily_... He closed his eyes as he remembered more from that night, almost with a pained look on his face, the touch of her fingers so light against him, yet he could feel everything...but how could that even be possible? And then her lips...

He shuddered as color rose to his cheeks. At the edge of the building he leaned against the concrete ridge and laid his head down on his forearm. Why? That was what bugged him the most. Why did she kiss him? He looked up, eyes narrowing in the darkness. And she took his sai! When Splinter finally found out he'd really be in trouble. He punched the top of the barrier.

"_Dammit_!"

A mix of confused feelings swept through him. The image of her smiling face flashed before his mind. Was she teasing him? Making fun of him? What was she doing there in the first place? He touched his bottom lips with his fingertips as the memory of her kiss rushed in again. His first kiss. A notion he had given up on since he was younger than Mikey.

"Raphael!"

The sound of his name startled him and snapped him into focus. He spun around, sai already in his left hand. Across the roof Raphael could make out a familiar shape. Leonardo.


	4. Chpt 4: That Which Burns

**CHAPTER FOUR**- That Which Burns

Candlelight and firelight flickered, sending shadows and delicate strips of yellow light rippling across him. Shirtless, Saki stood in front of a full length mirror examining the ruin that made up the right side of his face and body. The burnt and twisted remnants of his flesh rose and fell in pockets and ridges. Some of the scars much deeper than others as he traced a finger along the right side of his neck. But these scars were nothing compared to the ones that marked his heart.

The fire crackled and spat as his mind drifted back to another fire. One that happened so long ago but burned vividly in his memory.

...

_The roof was coming down!_

He raised himself up on his elbows. He was on the ground, vaguely remembering the blow that had knocked him there earlier. Now none of that mattered. The fight, the winner and loser, the rivalry, nothing. All that mattered was the roof was coming down! _And she was trapped inside!_

He scrambled to his feet, the blood in his eyes clouded his vision, his left eye swollen closed from the earlier blows to it. He swayed but managed to stay upright as he dashed to the front of the house, leaning on the door frame. Billowing clouds of black smoke poured from every opening making it impossible to see more than a few inches in front of him.

"Teng Shen!" He screamed into the roaring noise.

Nothing.

In the back of his mind he noted the coward, Yoshi, was nowhere to be seen. He would not forget that fact. Never. Rage flared but he pushed it aside. Covering his eyes with his right arm he jumped into the burning mess that was once her home. He dropped low into a crouch and searched the room. His head snapped left and right. Flames devoured most of the sparse furnishings and had quickly started to char the walls and support beams. His eyes stung and his lungs seared with pain with each breath he took.

"Teng Shen?" He called again, his voice hoarse and cracking.

He would find her if it meant it killed him. He moved deeper into the inferno. Above him the ceiling boards cracked, sending a shower of sparks over his head. He scrambled over some collapsed boards just as a burst of fire rose up like a wall where he crouched only a moment before. The roaring sound of the flames, the gray and black smoke and cracking boards surrounded him like a great beast, threatening to overwhelm him. But through the chaos he thought he heard it. His heart leapt in his chest. His eyes searched around desperately. The softest of moans came again and there on the floor a few feet away was a crumpled shape. He threw himself at her and gathering her in his arms, launched himself through a ruined wall framed with orange and red flames. He stumbled out into the garden space beyond the back of the home.

He fell on top of her gasping and shaking with effort. Eyes searching, hope failing, he gently touched her face, turning her so he could look at her fully. Her skin blackened and bleeding. Her once beautiful black hair mostly burned away. She did not open her eyes.

"Teng Shen?" He asked, voice trembling. He searched for a pulse, for any sign of life. Nothing.

He cradled the back of her head in his hands, ignoring the raging pain that now made its presence known across the right side of his body. He brought his forehead down against hers and the tears would not come but the pain cut through his heart like nothing he ever felt before. It stole his breath away and constricted his body into a tight ball of agony.

Beyond them the fire roared into the night as the roof suddenly collapsed in one mighty crash, feeding the uncontrolled inferno even more. Beneath the cracking, popping, screaming roars of the blaze an inhuman howl of unimaginable pain cried out into the night.

...

"Master..."

A silken voice brought him back to the present and to his reflection. Saki stood in front of his mirror but was no longer alone in his room. A woman's hand circled around his right wrist moving up his arm to his elbow. The touch, delicate as a whisper against him. As it went the damaged skin peeled away, the burnt flesh curling like dried paint, cracking and disintegrating, revealing soft flesh beneath. Her hand moved over his defined muscles. Up and around his shoulder.

Saki turned his head to the right and she stepped out from behind him, placing the softest of kisses on his bicep. He leaned his ruined face to her. She ran her hand through his hair. Where it was white and brittle, now was black and healthy again. His lips met hers but only briefly. She took his face in her hands and turned it again to the mirror.

Saki's eyes glittered in the firelight as he took in the image that now stood before him. The flesh, firm and strong. His face, the handsome lines restored as he looked in his prime, his hair full and dark as he remembered. His ruined and blind eye, healed, the vision restored.

"Saki?" She spoke in a painfully familiar voice.

He spun around and before him stood Teng Shen. Her long black hair spilled over her bare shoulders, covering her breasts. Her head low, eyes cast down. A white robe lay on the floor surrounding her feet. With shaking hands he reached out to her but stopped before touching her.

"My life. My love," he said softly in Japanese.

She raised her eyes, _Teng Shen's_ eyes, to him. The only thing betraying the illusion, a flash of red or gold reflecting in her eyes at certain angles of the firelight. Saki ignored it.

"My life. My love," she repeated in Japanese.

He gathered her into his arms and kissed her. He laid her body down before the fire. Her black hair sprayed in an arc across the white throw beneath her body. He kissed her again, deeply, and lost himself as the flames of passion consumed him.

...

Tyler sat on the edge of his sister's bed. She was out again, looking for that turtle she'd told him about. Tyler had believed her instantly, he knew their leader wasn't crazy. He'd kept that opinion to himself, though. She had gone to spy on him almost every night but only interacted with him the first night they met. Tyler had insisted she report it immediately, but she wouldn't listen to him. He almost went that morning to his superior officer, but decided to wait and see if she found out more about him. The only thing she'd told him was where she saw him. The nights he was there, she came back breathless and excited out of her mind. And still she refused to report it or even consider to.

The sai she brought home the first night sat on his lap. His fingers toyed with the frayed edge of the red band wrapped around the handle. Though he didn't think the words, he knew he stood at a crossroads. He was no longer the little boy, frightened of shadows, that needed his sister to protect him. Nearly eighteen, he was now a man. It was time to make his own way.

Guilt stabbed at him and he shifted uncomfortably. Deb wouldn't understand. She'd wanted to leave, and yet since the night she fought the turtle, she didn't bring it up again. Besides, he didn't want to leave. He had finally found a home with this clan. He was moving up and doing well on his own for the first time in his life and now...He glanced at the weapon in his hands. His fingers curled around the handle tightly. This was it. He knew what he had to do. He stood. Casting a glance around the room he wished he could leave a note, but decided it would be better in the end if he told her himself.

...


	5. Chpt 5: Confrontation

Notes: Hi, just wanted to say hello and thank everyone for their support and reviews. Well, here it is. The big fight between Raph and Leo. When will they learn?

**CHAPTER** **FIVE** - _Confrontation_

"What are you doin' here, Leo?" Raphael asked as he stabbed the sai back in place on his belt. He couldn't catch a break it seemed.

"I should be asking you that. Except I already know the answer, Raph. You're putting us in danger."

Raph blew out a breath. He tilted his head. "And how's that?"

"You didn't even know I was here, you didn't even hear me approach."

He was right. He'd no idea Leonardo was there until he yelled at him. Anyone could've crept up on him. Raph had been lost in his thoughts. Lost the way he had been since his encounter with her. But right or not, he wasn't going to give Leo the satisfaction. He shrugged.

"So, maybe I did hear you but didn't care."

Leo frowned. "That makes no sense. What if I were a Foot soldier or worse?"

"Like a Foot soldier'd be out here in the middle of nowhere," he said with a snort but shifted his belt strap uncomfortably. He thought of that woman, the uniform and mask. She was one of them, wasn't she? The thought nagged him. He brushed it away.

"C'mon." Leonardo turned back toward the steel ladder. _Ah, so this is why he came_. Raphael stood his ground. Leonardo stopped. He looked at Raphael and nodded at the ladder. "I said come on."

"I heard you, Leo." Raphael crossed his arms. "You go ahead, I'm gonna be out a while."

Leonardo's eyes narrowed. "Master Splinter wants you home _now_."

Raphael waved a dismissive hand at him. "Don't wait up."

Then, Raphael turned to jump to the next building when he felt Leo's hand catch him by the shoulder. Raph froze. His eyes went from Leo's hand to his face. Anger flashed through him, turning his blood icy.

"Let go 'a me." Raphael said in a low voice.

"I said you're coming home with me, understand?"

Leonardo tightened his grip. He didn't want to get physical with his brother, he really wanted to do right by Master Splinter. His feelings were still raw from Splinter's words earlier. He didn't want to mess up again. He really wanted to do better, but he was at a loss as to how he would convince Raphael only with words to come back with him.

"I won't ask you again, Leo," Raphael said his face darkening.

Leonardo held on and gave a small shake of his head.

"Don't do this, Raphael."

Raphael shrugged.

"I warned you," he said in a conversational tone and threw a right hook at Leo's face.

Leonardo released Raph's shoulder and pulled back in time to miss the blow. He hadn't really been surprised when he saw it coming from the corner of his eye, but he did feel the sting of hurt that his brother was so quick to hit him. Leonardo took a measured breath, clearing his head. He put up his hands in a placating gesture. Raph's hands were at his sides, balled into fists. He took a step towards Leonardo.

"Easy. Look, I don't want to fight you..."

"Then leave me alone! _Go home_!"

Raphael got close to Leonardo's face and shoved him hard, causing him to step back two steps. Leo's eyes narrowed as he knocked Raphael's hands away from him. His instinct told him to grab his katanas. He clenched his fists and then with effort, forced them to relax.

"Raphael, Splinter wants you home," He tried to sound reasonable, but the tone came out demanding. Like a parent scolding a child.

Raphael's jaw tightened. "Too bad. I'll come home when I'm ready."

Raphael paced in front of him. Leonardo shook his head, "No, no more of this tantrum. You'll come now," he said firmly pointing to the ground to emphasize the point. Now he sounded exactly like Splinter.

Raphael couldn't stand it. He sneered and came up to him fast. He pushed Leonardo back with two hands.

"_Make me_!"

He blocked with his forearms as Raphael tried to push him a third time. Leo was quickly losing his patience. He twisted his hands around and gripped Raph's right wrist, turned and flipped him hard onto his back. The wind knocked from him, Raphael brought his knees to his chest and kicked out, landing back on his feet. He spun to face Leo. With a growl, he launched his shoulder into Leonardo's mid-section. The fierce attack caught Leo off guard. He didn't have time to dodge. Together they stumbled and fell. Leonardo hit the floor with a painful gasp. Raphael reared up. He pulled his left fist back. Leonardo deflected the blow with his forearm, grunting with effort. A volley of blows came at his face. Leonardo blocked each one. His arms ached, bruises raising where his arms met Raphael's wrists.

With each strike Raphael spat, "I...am...so...sick...of...you!"

Leonardo, battered and angry, no longer held back. He bucked, throwing Raphael off him. He rolled out to the right, jumped up and landed a round-house kick to his brother's shoulder, knocking him to the side a few feet.

"Yeah? Well, I am sick of _you_!" Leonardo followed with another kick, this one Raphael blocked, but the force of it drove him down onto his knees. "Your whining and all the trouble you make!"

Leonardo threw another kick. Raphael deflected it. But not completely. He sat back on his heels cradling his left arm in his right. Raphael glared at Leonardo. Then Leonardo spun and his kick cracked Raphael across the jaw. His head snapped to one side.

Leonardo stopped abruptly. He caught his breath in a short gasp. _What had he done? _His brother was down! He stared in horror at his brother now on his hands and knees, head low near the ground. Quickly, he dashed to his side and fell to one knee. He placed his hand gently on Raphael's shell.

"Raph, I...I'm s-"

Raph turned his head and spat in front of Leo. A red stain blossomed there. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Raphael felt the light pressure of his brother's hand on his shell. He glowered sideways at Leonardo and shrugged his body roughly away from his brother's touch.

Leonardo stood up straight. He blinked and took a steadying breath. _Fine_.

"Are we done here?" He asked quietly.

Raphael ignored him. He brought a hand up and gingerly touched his jaw. His vision blurred and focused. A thin stream of blood-tinged spittle hung from his mouth. The metallic tang of blood numbed his tongue. His heart hammered and his head ached.

Leonardo wiped his hand against the front of his body, feeling the aches of their fight starting to hurt. Shame and guilt gnawed at his stomach. He suddenly felt very tired. His head throbbed. An upsetting thought crossed his mind. Splinter was going to be furious with him. He closed his eyes. A lump formed in his throat. _How could this have gone any worse?_

He opened his eyes and glanced around the roof. Did he just hear something?

"Let's just go h-"

"I don't think so," Raphael interrupted in a hoarse voice.

He swung his leg out and swept Leonardo off his feet. Leonardo landed on his back with a thud and grunt. The back of his head slammed painfully against the ground. Stars exploded in front of his vision. Raph was on him again. He felt his brother's large hand grip him around his throat. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the glint of Raph's sai in his other fist. Stunned, he felt Raph's grip tighten.

He stared into Raphael's eyes, only seeing anger and hate there. Fear cut across Leonardo's stomach. He'd never been afraid of his brother before, _never_. But now, seeing that look in his eyes, feeling the rage pouring off him like a rushing river, and feeling his fingers squeeze the air out of his throat, Leonardo was afraid of him. Afraid and hurt. Tears filled his eyes as he struggled against Raphael's strength. But Raph only pressed down harder.

Raphael brought his face close to Leonardo's. He spoke with his teeth gritted together, his voice more growling than words.

"_No more_," he snarled. "_No more bossin' me around, __**got it**_?"

He slammed Leonardo's head against the ground and released him. He stepped off Leonardo and backed away as Leonardo rolled to one side gasping and coughing, holding his throat.

The anger began to ebb, he no longer felt lost in the red haze as he did a moment ago when he'd pinned his brother. He swallowed, still tasting the metallic flavor of the blood welling inside his mouth. He blinked rapidly as regret and guilt welled up in place of the retreating anger. He felt hollow and numb inside and though he wanted to go to his brother, his feet would not move.

Without warning a metal bar came over his head from behind. It was pressed tight against his throat. Before he could flip his attacker, two pair of hands grabbed at his arms. He tried to spin to face his foe but his feet were kicked out from under him. He struggled and swore as more figures landed on his shell. Hands held his legs and arms fast.

He craned his neck to see Foot soldiers on top of his brother. Leonardo fought back weakly. He couldn't hold them off. One of the soldiers struck him across the head with a small club and he went down in a heap. They swarmed over Leonardo's body.

"No..." Raphael groaned.

_He didn't stand a chance thanks to me_, he thought bitterly.

It was the last thought he had as something slammed against the back of his head sending him into darkness.


	6. Chptr 6: A Cause for Celebration

_**NOTES:**__ I hope you enjoyed that last chapter. I was really agonizing over the fight scene between Raph and Leo. I wanted to make it as realistic as possible with the two of them causing each other to get angrier until things got out of hand. But it was the thin line of making them really fight with each other and not crossing that line into doing something that was unforgivable that I wanted to dance along. Things are escalating all around. Deborah will find herself caught up in a storm she never saw coming. I hope you guys are having fun reading this! I'm really enjoying the feedback and impressions I'm getting from you! It's so encouraging - it pushes me to keep writing. BTW, I don't own the Ninja Turtles, but I do own my dreams. ;')_

**Chapter Six** - _A Cause for Celebration_

The double doors leading into the large gym used as the dojo/sparring chamber burst open. Deborah stormed inside. She stopped for a moment, scanning the occupants inside. In one corner a few girls were working on twisting hand holds and blocks. Near the center of the gym, a few pairs if soldiers were sparring hard. The clack of their wooden weapons hitting each other made almost a musical rhythm. She watched one spin a nicely timed kick into his opponent, sending him flying into the heavily padded wall.

The sound of laughter caught her attention. A familiar voice rose up above the general chatter and sparring sounds. Hands balled into fists at her sides, she moved towards her brother's voice. With each step, her boots sunk deep into the mats. A few guys turned her way and admired the shape of her before continuing their sparring. Lucky for them, no one made catcalls. She was in no mood to play games.

"Hey!" A tall guy with a military haircut holding a clipboard shouted at her. "Boots, cadet!"

Deborah ignored him. In the back of her mind she recalled the rule that said no shoes allowed inside on the mats. She marched over to the small group of men and women talking animatedly with her brother. She pushed and elbowed her way to the center where her brother stood leaning on a Bo staff with a smug expression on his face. Something about his smile right there made Deborah even angrier.

"Excuse me," Deborah said to the group.

She reached out and grabbed her brother roughly by the front of his uniform. She spun and flipped him over her back. He landed with a satisfying thud. He groaned. She grabbed the Bo staff when it flew out of his grasp and brought it down on his head with a loud crack.

"Ow! Dammit, Deb!" She hit him again for using that nickname. "Ow!"

The group around her backed up. Some gasped and she heard them muttering and caught the word, "sister". A few began to snicker. Tyler spun around on his bottom to face her. An expression of pure indignation on his face.

"We need to talk," she snapped at him.

Just then the group around her hushed. They parted in a hurry as the officer with the haircut entered the fray. He grabbed her hand holding the bo by the wrist from behind. She swung her arm in an arc freeing herself. She spun around.

"Back off!" She yelled at him without thinking and received a back hand for her disrespect. "Ugh!" The crowd, now many more people than when she entered, gasped and fell silent. Their attention bounced from their Shisho (martial arts instructor) to the two soldiers on the mats. She went down on one knee. For a moment stars sprang across her vision and her head swam. She wiped her mouth with the back of one hand. She tasted blood and glared at the man who struck her. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the bo staff tightly. She moved to stand up but her brother grabbed her arm, forcing her back on her heels. She clenched her jaw fighting back the furious words that threatened to spill out of her.

"Sorry, Shisho!" Tyler spoke quickly. "My sister can be compulsive. She forgets her manners."

His dark eyes considered Tyler and for a moment seemed torn. But then he folded his arms across his chest and nodded.

"Take her and her filthy boots back to her room, now. If this were any other day she'd been _punished _more severely." He spat the word punished at her. He stared, never breaking eye-contact with Deborah, who returned the stare with as much hatred in her eyes as possible. Tyler pulled her to her feet and yanked her arm hard as she brought it up to make a rude gesture. He grabbed her hand, crushing the fingers a little.

"C'mon, you wanna get killed?" He hissed as he dragged her away. They stomped out of the dojo. All eyes followed. The silence in the dojo ending with a slam of double doors. Once out in the hallway, she yanked her hand free from his grasp. Shoving him against the wall, she punched him in the arm.

"Where is it?!" She asked between gnashing teeth. Her bottom lip throbbed from the smack and she was sure it was swelling.

"Wh...What?"

A group of soldiers entered the hallway just then. Deborah stepped back from her brother. He smoothed the front of his uniform and cleared his throat.

"Hey, there he is!" One of them called. "The man of the hour!" Another one added. "Nice job, Tyler!" They patted him on the arm as they passed and entered the dojo. Deborah watched them go and turned a suspicious glare at her brother. She jerked a thumb in their direction.

"What the hell is that all about?"

"Deb...Deborah," he quickly corrected as her expression turned from angry to murderous, "I need to tell you something." He licked his lips. His eyes darted down the hallway.

"No shit, _Sherlock_." She dropped her voice to a whisper, "Where is it?"

"Uh, oh!" Comprehension dawned on him. "Yeah, no." He ran a nervous hand through his light brown hair. "This is way more important than that."

She frowned and asked slowly, "what do you mean?" She didn't like the sinking feeling growing in her gut. Something was wrong. She clenched and unclenched her fists. Her lip ached and she wanted an aspirin. But first she wanted to know where he put her prize from the other night and what the hell was going on.

"I wanted to tell you last night, when it all happened. But _as usual_," he added accusingly, "I couldn't find you."

She shook her head. "No. I was here, _idiot_. I spent the night in the kitchen on dirty dishes detail, remember it was my shift."

"Oh, right. I forgot, I thought you were, uh, out."

Just then the speakers in the hallway came alive with a screech that made both siblings flinch.

**"All soldiers to auditorium. First floor. All soldiers to auditorium. First floor."**

Tyler suddenly grabbed his sister by her shoulders. The look on his face was a mix of guilt and pain.

"Deb," He shook his head hard before she could protest, "please don't hate me..."

His eyes pleaded with her. Her heart sank even as it pounded in her chest. Now icy fear began to creep up her spine. This could not be good. What had he done? He stared into her eyes, mouth open but nothing more coming out. The fear in his eyes struck something deep inside her. A protective surge flashed through her. Whatever it was, she'd make it alright. She'd fix it. Anger forgotten, her expression softened.

"I...I could never hate you, TJ."

Before she or Tyler could say another word, the dojo erupted. Men and the few women flooded the hallway. Their happy cheers and yells seemed oddly foreboding. She was pressed to the side from the sheer number of people who had emerged now from various rooms near the dojo. Her eyes darted about. Tyler had disappeared in the rushing crowd. She caught sight of his face once as he turned to mouth the words,_ I'm sorry_.

"For what, TJ?" She held her arms and suppressed a shudder. The group was thinning out and Deborah followed with the remainders to the stairs and made her way down to the auditorium.

The large room was packed. All the stadium-style seats were taken up by the soldiers settling in. Dozens more stood in the back. Deborah among them. She scanned the room for any sign of her brother, but with the low lighting and the dark uniforms everyone looked the same to her. She bit her lip in frustration and muffled a curse as pain lanced through her mouth. She really wanted some aspirin. She'd even settle for a cool rag at that moment.

A spotlight illuminated the stage below. In the center front was a raised podium. This was where she'd first laid eyes on the leader of this place. Some tall guy decked out in spikes and blades, known only to the soldiers as The Shredder. The name fit. He'd gone on and on about the plans of the Foot to gain power in the world. Finally cementing the idea that the guy was crazy, he'd finished his speech with a rant about mutant turtles and how they were enemy number one. Of course, that was before she personally ran into one of them.

The memory stirred and she thought back to that night. A thrill went through her as she remembered how the encounter had ended. A smile played at the corner of her sore lips. The last three weeks, she'd been following him, keeping well out of his sight. She enjoyed spying on him from a distance. It'd been like a game to her. From watching him she could tell he was highly skilled. And made mostly of muscle and shell. And each time she'd fought the urge to make contact again, but something held her back. Probably logic, she mused.

_Stupid logic_, she thought.

A hush fell on the crowd as four men stepped out onto the stage. They walked up and two flanked either side of the podium. All four were exactly the same height, tall with long arms and legs. Their uniforms were similar to the one every other soldier wore; only these didn't have eye holes in their masks. A silver band wrapped around their left bicep matching the belt around their waists. Unlike some of the upper ranking officers Deborah had seen, they bore no weapons. Suddenly someone was standing at the podium. She seemed to appear out of nowhere. An unsettled feeling danced about her stomach. It wasn't the spiky guy. It...it was a woman! Deborah thought with some shock.

The woman wore a long, white, robe-like dress. The fabric shimmered in the spotlight and the way it moved, Deborah guessed it was made of silk. The sleeves were long and wide at the wrists. She had a head covering much like Muslim women might wear. It covered her hair completely, leaving only her face revealed. From where Deborah stood, she couldn't make out the woman's features too well. But when she spoke her accent was hard to place. Maybe Middle Eastern, but Deborah figured she might be assuming that more because of the clothes the woman wore. The voice that came out of her was rich and sensual. Deborah didn't know if it was a fault with the microphone she spoke into, but somehow her voice seemed...off. Not quite an echo, but more like a slight time delay set her words off by half a second. She glanced around her to see if anyone else noticed the strangeness of it. All around her the guys stood stone still, listening intently to that voice.

"A great day is upon us..." She began.

Deborah immediately tuned her out. If there was one thing she hated about this place, it was the rah-rah speeches that seemed to go on forever about nothing. She wanted to get back to her conversation with her brother and figured the sooner this was over the sooner she could find out what he was so sorry about. She sighed through her nose and a question popped into her mind. She leaned over and nudged the guy next to her. He glanced down as she looked up and caught her breath. The Foot had no loss of hot guys in the recruits it seemed. Light blue eyes searched hers in the dark. His face framed by thick, sandy-blond hair. She cleared her throat.

"Yeah?" He asked quietly.

"Uh, who is that?" She pointed a finger out from her crossed arms. He bent down to hear her better and she felt her heart flutter a bit. _Get a hold of yourself, Deborah,_ she thought. Before she could repeat herself, the woman below said something that startled her. Her head jerked towards the stage.

_Did she just say...?_

"That's The Mistress," he said in her ear. But she hardly heard him at all.

The audience burst into applause as Deborah watched in stunned horror as her little brother took the stage. The woman in white, The Mistress, took his shoulders in her hands and she lightly kissed his cheeks. Some sort of medal hung around his neck. He bowed low and then turned to the audience who were going nuts.

"What is this?" Her voice was lost in the roar.

Gorgeous next to her, leaned down again and asked over the noise. "Isn't that your brother?"

In a daze she nodded. Her stomach twisted into a knot. A terrible thought took root in her mind. This wasn't about her sai going missing. They wouldn't be making such a big deal over a simple weapon being recovered. She shook her head as she backed away. Her back bumped into the wall. She felt along with her hand behind her until she found the knob. She opened the door and slipped out. She bolted for Tyler's room. The whistles and thunderous applause followed her like a guilty conscience out into the hallway.

_He wouldn't have told them! He promised her!_

As she ran, she thought desperately back to the morning when she'd returned from her encounter with the turtle. She slammed her fist against her forehead, trying to remember how much she had said to him. And what she'd been confiding in him since that night. Her stomach sank. She told him, in detail, the location of where she'd seen the ninja turtle, night after night.

_Oh god. Why am I so fucking stupid!_

He had to have told them. He must have thought it would get him a promotion or something. Well, that worked out nicely for him, she thought bitterly. The betrayal cut through her like a physical knife to her heart.

"Dammit, TJ!"

Then another disturbing thought raced through her mind. Her heart constricted. Her breath caught as she stopped running and leaned against the wall.

_Did they kill him?_

Her heart pounding, she ran a hand through her hair. If so, it would be her fault. And if they didn't, they would soon. And would they torture him first? She was pretty sure she knew the answer to that. She suddenly felt weak in her knees and sick. Very, very sick. She needed a bathroom. Thankfully, one was right across from where she stopped.

...

After emptying her stomach of her meager lunch, Deborah sat on the bathroom floor, her back against the door. Breathing in and out slowly, she tried to clear her mind and make a plan. She needed information. No, she needed to _murder her brother _and then find out if that turtle was still breathing. And if he was, where they were keeping him. There was no way she was letting these nut jobs torture and kill that amazing creature. She took a deep breath.

The vivid memory of her kissing him on the roof flashed through her mind. His lips, the expression on his face after. Her heart fluttered and she caught her breath. _No, not a creature_, she thought, correcting herself. Something more than that.

Something..._someone_ very special.


	7. Chpt 7: The Mistress

Notes: Okay, buckle your seat belts, kind readers. This is where things get…interesting and a bit dark. And just as a side note, I love Isabella Rossellini's accent, and that's sort of how I pictured the Mistress' accent to be like. Hope this chapter isn't too long, but I had to write in all the details. I hope it came out as vividly as I pictured in my head, lol. Well, here goes...

**CHAPTER SEVEN – **The Mistress

A floor. The scrape of chains against brick.

_Darkness_.

A sliver of light. A moan near him.

_Darkness_.

Pain. Bright and sharp. The floor blurred and focused. So thirsty. He tasted dried blood and coughed. Pain shot through his throat and cut through the side of his head, darkness threatened but he struggled against it. Widening his eyes, blinking rapidly, he tried to clear his vision. Where was he? Why couldn't he move his arms? A voice then. Rough and quiet, but urgent.

"Leo? You awake?"

A chain rattled. Leonardo raised his head. The room spun. The back of his head knocked gently against the wall sending a new wave of pain and nausea through him. He felt sick and darkness framed the edge of his sight.

"Unnngh."

Knives lanced through his throat with the sound. He coughed again, wincing from the hurt it caused. He swallowed dryly. His tongue felt thick. He tried again to move his hands. The soft clanging of chains filled the room as he did. He turned his head. His wrists were strapped with leather bonds up above his head to each side. The cuffs were connected to a thick chain which was latched to the wall behind him. Trying to shift his feet, he discovered he could only move them a few inches away from the wall. He became aware that his ankles were bound similarly as his wrists. Breathing slowly, fighting the panic that was crawling up through him, he blinked and focused on his surroundings.

He was in some sort of cell. Across from where he was chained, about five feet, he faced a gray brick wall. Over a bit to his left, he started as his eyes fell on Raphael. He was staring desperately at Leonardo. Leo took in his brother's condition; chained to the opposite wall and held with leather bonds exactly as he was. Icy fear now fed the panic growing within him.

_No! This wasn't happening!  
_  
He tried to pull away from the wall. The chains rattled. The pain blossomed in his head.

"It's no good, Leo. I've been tryin'." Raphael shook his head. "You've been out for hours."

Leonardo started to speak but only managed a croak. He winced and closed his watering eyes tight. Raphael dropped his head low. His stomach contracted with guilt and regret.

Leo opened his eyes and looked at his left wrist. He began twisting it around in small circles, pulling down as he did. The leather bit into his skin. The chains rattled and he grunted as he tugged harder. He turned his head and tried the same with his right wrist. Raphael watched him carefully and copied his movements. After a few minutes of this they stopped. Their breathing coming in hard huffs from the effort. Their hands remained bound.

They exchanged looks. Frustration and anger pinched Raphael's features. Leonardo took a deep breath, steadying himself. He still fought the panic that sat just below the surface. He had to stay calm. It would be the only way out of this. He had to be brave, had to set the example. He nodded at Raphael. They tried again. This time Raphael pulled the chain away from the wall as he twisted his wrist. He grunted, swearing as he pulled. The chains strained but even with all his strength, they remained linked and unbroken. Raphael slammed his head back in frustration.

"Dammit!" He yelled.

Both their heads snapped towards the door as the sound of a bolt being released caught their attention. Someone was coming in. They exchanged a brief glance and Leonardo gave a small shake of his head. Raphael understood.

_Keep quiet, no matter what.  
_  
The door swung open. Two Foot soldiers, dressed all in black with black masks covering their faces completely, stepped through. On one arm was a silver band that matched the belts at their waists. They stopped at either side of the doorway. One of them was holding an ornate bowl in front of him.

A figure all in white entered next. A hood covered its head, obscuring its features. This person stopped and stood in front of Raphael who was closer to the door. Raphael shifted his feet slightly. Two more soldiers entered wearing identical uniforms as the first two. They flanked the figure in white. The person in front of Raphael raised its head. Raphael started and shot a quick glance in Leonardo's direction, but Leonardo didn't catch the look on his brother's face, only the back of the strange person in white.

"So." Her voice was soft, deep and touched with a rich accent. "And to think I began to doubt him."

Using two hands, she pushed back the hood to reveal white hair plaited into a thick braid from the top of her head down the side of her body. Golden ribbons were woven throughout it. Long golden earrings hung from her ear lobes. Her skin was a deep copper. She took a step closer to Raphael. Her eyes taking in his arms, hands, head, and eyes. She reached a hand out to touch the side of his face. He jerked his head away from her. She stopped. Her hand hovered in front of him. An oval black ring sat upon her fourth finger.

She paused. "Where do you come from?"

Raphael kept silent. They stood motionless for a heartbeat. When it was clear that he wasn't about to talk, she raised her hand higher as if to strike him. His eyes darted from her hand to her face. He narrowed his eyes.

"Answer _me_."

She brought her hand down hard and smacked him across his jaw. A flash of pain blinded him as the cut inside his mouth from Leonardo's earlier blow reopened. He gritted his teeth as his mouth filled with blood. He dropped his head and spat at her feet. The blood and spit spattering against the hem of her robe. The two guards on either side of her straightened, their gloved hands balled into fists. She examined her gown calmly and then regarded Raphael.

"It thinks it's tough." She said slowly and turned away from him towards Leonardo. As she did she said, "Break him a little for me."

Leonardo gasped as the two guards turned in on his brother.

_No! Raphael!_

His hands in fists, he pulled against the chains holding his arms but it was no use. His heels slammed into the bricks as he struggled. The muscles in his legs coiled and strained. Helplessly, he could only watch as they ruthlessly punched Raphael's face and body again and again. His eyes filled with frustrated tears, blurring his vision.

_Cowards!_

Through all of it, Raphael didn't cry out. Leonardo could hear low grunts of pain and the breath being knocked out of him. The sight of the strongest of his brothers being made defenseless and beaten so cruelly made his heart constrict with anguish. And yet he was proud, so proud of the strength of Raphael's will, refusing to give the guards the satisfaction of his suffering.

His jaw clenched as the woman moved to stand in front of him. Something out of the corner of his eye made him turn his face from Raphael's torture to the woman standing in front of him. He focused on her eyes and his breath caught. Eyes like liquid gold with dark red pupils slashing vertically through the iris regarded him. She smiled coldly as she gazed back into his eyes and took in the shocked expression he wore.

"What pretty eyes you have. This..."

She brought her hands up and stroked either side of his face, brushing them down the front of his throat, her fingers lightly pressing, searching. Leonardo jerked his face away from her touch. The back of his head meeting the rough bricks behind him. The surface scratched his skin. Her hands flowed down over the front of him, stopping at his belt.

"...is no trickery. But how can this be?"

She held up her right hand and the men beating Raphael relented. They stepped back. Raphael's body shook as he gasped in shuddering breaths. Fresh blood dribbled from between his lips, making a small pool between his feet. Muttering to herself, her hands continued to roam over Leonardo's body. Her fingers prodded the curves and lines that made up Leonardo's plastron.

"I have waited so long. So, so long. Might I finally have the means to go home? But I must be sure this is no elaborate hoax or deception."

Reaching into her robe she produced a silver dagger. She held it up in front of Leonardo. Rested the tip of it at the hollow of his throat. Sweat dotted his forehead. His feet shifted. His heels trying uselessly to push him back.

Raphael gasped and Leonardo's eyes darted from the blade to his brother. Raphael was staring at him, leaning forward, painfully straining his arms behind him. The fear in Raphael's eyes matched his own. A bolt of terror shot through him as she pushed the blade slightly. The tip bit into the soft skin there. A pearl of blood formed just above where it pierced. He gave Raphael a short shake of his head, but Raphael only stared at him, helpless and not understanding. The fear and horror written plainly across his face nearly undid Leonardo.

"Don't..."

Leonardo's plea came out low and raspy. The woman raised an eyebrow. She eased the dagger back a little. But he wasn't speaking to her.

"D...Don't...look," he said to Raphael, his voice slightly louder than a whisper. Raphael grimaced, shook his head but finally closed his eyes tightly.

"Oh," she purred, "it thinks it's brave."

She slid the point of the blade away from his throat, over his collarbone and his shoulder, down over his bicep. She pressed lightly leaving a thin trail of red in his flesh with the tip. She twisted her wrist and slipped the blade beneath the straps of his elbow padding and in one swift flick, cut it free. Leonardo did his best not to flinch. Furiously, his heart pounded. The sweat trickled over his face and down his neck, stinging the cut from the dagger. She cut free the padding on his right elbow. Then she traced the dagger across his chest. She cut twice, once across the diagonal straps that held the empty sheaths for his katanas on his back and once through the belt across his waist. The leather fell in a heap at his feet. Stooping low, she did the same with the pads protecting his knees, and set the blade aside.

Without his gear, Leonardo felt exposed and vulnerable. The only time he didn't wear it was when he slept or bathed. His body jumped involuntarily as he suddenly felt her warm hands upon his thighs. Again, her fingers pressed and searched across his skin. Her hands trailed higher until she slid them under and beneath the space between his legs where she met softer flesh. Leonardo gasped suddenly, a shudder rocked his body. He turned his face to his arm; eyes closed tightly, a deep blush coloring his face.

"It seems I have my found my proof. You are no fraud." Her voice shifted in tone, now more taunting as she continued, "and indeed a _male_."

"_Leave 'em alone_!" Raphael's voice cracked as he screamed.

His deep growl filled the room. The chains rattled as he pulled and struggled violently to get free. His shell slammed against the wall behind him. His muscles coiled and writhed against the bonds that held him fast. The leather cuffs at his wrist were rimmed with blood from his effort.

She released Leonardo and stood. The dagger clutched in her hand once again. She spun and pointed it at Raphael.

"Now that you speak, you will answer me! Where do you come from? You do not belong in the natural order of this place. Give me an answer and things will go easier for you both."

"Go fu-" Before Raphael could get out the curse, the guard next to him grabbed his face and squeezed hard. The pain was fierce but Raphael continued to buck and labor against his restraints. Where the fingers gripped him, his skin suddenly burned, making his eyes water.

"**You will not disrespect the Mistress**." A voice like metal being dragged over gravel came from the man.

"I grow impatient with these tactics."

She narrowed her eyes to slits. Then a thoughtful expression crossed her face. She brought the dagger up to her mouth. She considered it, and then swept the blade across her tongue, licking the thin droplets of Leonardo's blood on its edge. Raphael, still struggling in the grip of the soldier, saw that as she did, her eyes went completely white. Then, just as suddenly, her golden irises flashed.

"I will have my answers." She looked over her shoulder at Leonardo and smiled, a cruel glitter in her eye. "Your blood will _sing_ to me, blue eyes." She snapped her fingers and the soldier with the bowl stepped forward. Before she could proceed, a young man burst into the cell.

"Mistress," he paused, taking in the sight of the turtles with a shocked expression, and then continued, "The Shredder has just now arrived. He's sent me to summon you to his chamber immediately." The soldier backed out.

She slid the dagger back inside her robe.

"The fool will be quick to dispose of you. Like most humans, he only understands destruction and death." She caressed Leonardo's cheek. "You are my key to returning home. Do not fear. I will protect you." Leonardo trembled and he pulled away from her touch.

The soldier squeezing Raphael's face shoved his head back. It struck the bricks and Raphael grunted with pain. With that The Mistress and her guards exited the cell. The door closed and locked behind them.

Breathing heavily, Raphael turned a worried glance at Leonardo. His eyes were closed, brow furrowed. He was panting slightly, the color slowly fading from his cheeks.

"W...We've got to...get out of here," he said.


	8. Chpt 8: Crossroads

**Chapter Eight** - Crossroads

Donatello watched from his kneeling position next to Michelangelo on the floor as Master Splinter paced in front of them. Splinter's eyes continued to bounce from the clock to his two young students to the floor as he paced. The tap-tapping of his claws along with the light clunk of his cane was beginning to drive Donatello crazy. It took all of Donatello's concentration to not jump up and demand that he and Mikey leave this minute to go look for Leonardo and Raphael. But he knew that it was Splinter's decision to make and any distractions would only prolong whatever internal struggle his Sensei was experiencing.

Splinter glanced at the clock in their kitchen again. The soft ticking of the seconds seemed to mock him in his distress. It had been thirty-six hours since Leonardo had gone to bring his brother home. After the first night had come and gone, he had felt the prick of fear plant its seed in his subconscious but fought back any worries with calm reassurances to himself. Both of his older sons were competent ninja. If they had come into some trouble, then surely they were keeping out of sight. Perhaps waiting for an opportune moment to make their way back unseen to him and their brothers. But as another day came and went, the seed of fear had taken root and no amount of reassurance could chase the cold feeling he had in the base of his stomach.

Splinter closed his eyes and breathed a heavy sigh through his nose. What danger lay ahead for his youngest sons he had no way of knowing. All he knew was that the elder two were gone and they hadn't contacted him or Donatello or Michelangelo in any way. His pacing ceased. He had no choice.

"Donatello. You and Michelangelo will go out to find your brothers. I fear they are in serious trouble."

Donatello straightened and looked expectantly at his father. "Yes, Sensei. Should I call April, too? Maybe she could help us? Besides, the more locators activated, the better chance we'll have of finding Leonardo. First we find him, then we'll find Raphael," he paused, considering something. "Hopefully, he gave Raph his tracker."

"We'll, if not, hopefully they're together somewhere," Mikey said with a shrug and Donatello nodded hoping his false enthusiasm would soothe his father's uneasy expression.

Splinter only looked away from them and said nothing. His eyes roved from the punching bag hanging sadly unused, to the television set and couch where Leonardo would tune to his favorite show. A sadness hung over him that he could not mask.

Donatello and Michelangelo exchanged a worried glance. The way Leonardo and Raphael had been fighting the last few weeks, Donatello wondered what exactly had happened between the two. He hoped it was only a matter of his brothers going off angrily in separate directions. How much he actually believed that was the case? He swallowed, it didn't matter. Leonardo had his tracker on and he was sure he'd be able to find him with the locator. _Mostly sure._

Splinter spoke to Donatello. "Yes, call April for help on this."

Donatello jumped to his feet and dashed into his room to retrieve his T-Phone. Before long he was running out of the lair with Michelangelo following close behind. Though April was only a few years older, Splinter knew she would offer not only help, but also some protection for his younger children. Trained though they were, their age and inexperience left them with too many vulnerabilities for his liking.

"Hi, April? Of course, it's you, uh, it's me, Donatello. Hey, you busy?"

"Be safe, my sons."

Splinter sat in a heap and closed his eyes to meditate, though he knew it would be fruitless with the weight of this worry on his mind.

...

The door opened carefully. Tyler peered around the door to find Deborah sitting on the edge of his bed. Her arms folded, her legs crossed. One foot bounced with irritation. The expression on her face made him swallow nervously. She eyed the medallion on his chest as he entered the room. It hung from a ribbon around his neck. The award that woman on stage had given him. She swept the hair off her shoulder with the movement of her head.

"Surprised they haven't moved you to the officer's quarters yet."

"No, uh, not yet." He said and cleared his throat. She came to her feet as he closed the door behind him.

"How could you do this? _I trusted you_." She hissed.

He raised his hands defensively. "Deborah, think about what you're saying. We're part of the Foot Clan. These mutants are their enemy, our enemy. We knew where to find them and I reported it."

She glowered at him, fists clenched and took a step towards him.

"Hey, I didn't do anything wrong here. I...We did good."

She froze. "Good? _Good?_" She laughed out loud as she said the word. "Do you have any idea of what they're going to do to him? They are going to torture him and then-"

He held out his hand, cutting her off. She slapped the sides of her legs in frustration.

"Deb, I don't _care_. What difference does it make? So what if they kill it."

She glared at him. "No, not _it_, TJ. _Him_."

He stared at her incredulously. "What?"

"Forget it." She threw up her hands. Her eyes flashed. "Just tell me where they've got him."

"W...Wait. You're not thinking what I think you're thinking. No. You can't."

She put her hands on her hips and waited. He shook his head back and forth as the look he knew too well came across her face. The one of stubborn determination that got them food and shelter more times than he could count. That look brought him through times that other kids on the streets didn't survived through. So often cold and hungry, she'd never complained, only took care of him the best she could. He depended so much on her then. He'd never had the courage to ask her after she'd been gone for hours at a time but brought back money or food where she'd gone or what she'd done to get the stuff. The hard look in her eyes made her seem much older than nineteen years she'd been alive. His stomach sank. Sadness pulled at his heart. But he was stubborn, too. He pointed at her.

"You're crazy, you know that? You're going to ruin everything for me," he stuttered, "uh...us."

She smiled bitterly at him. "You had it right the first time, little brother. "This isn't about us." He tore his eyes away from her gaze and stared at the floor, shame coloring his cheeks. "This is about you climbing up some sick and stupid corporate ladder in the land of nut jobs."

They stood in silence then, both feeling hurt and misunderstood. Neither gaining ground in the argument.

She said softly, "You either tell me what I need to know or I'll get the information another way."

He said nothing, couldn't bring himself to look at her. His fingers played along the edge of the award that hung from a ribbon around his neck. It was the only award he'd ever gotten in his life. He felt torn and sick.

Deborah pushed past him roughly. "Fine."

A soft noise from her brother made her pause at the door, her fingers on the knob.

"Wait, Deb. I know where they have them."

She let go of the door knob and turned around. "_Them_?"

...


	9. Chpt 9: Bittersweet Reunion

Things are not looking good for our heroes. The next chapter, 10 and maybe 11, may have to be rated at an M due to the nature of what I have planned, but we'll see. If so, I'll post a warning at the start of the chapter. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 9**- Bittersweet Reunion

Deborah worked the thin tip of one of her teardrop throwing stars into the small lock. The bolt was a simple thing to move, but this lock was another matter. She never missed her survival pack more than at this moment. She had a kit for stubborn door locks that she could use to gain entrance in five seconds. Vaguely, she wondered if her tools had been pilfered or just tossed in the trash.

She'd followed Tyler down into the basement and then through a series of connecting hallways from the main compound to this outpost. He explained as they jogged along that his buddy's had told him where the turtles had been taken and held that first night. There was another compound not far from where the building they used sat. He understood that the main floor was used as a type of secret night club called _Ke-ji_, which he explained, meant _Cage _in Japanese. A thrill of fear flew through Deborah as he explained that some of the officers used a lower level where there was an _actual _cage as a fight club of sorts. Apparently, the Shredder enjoyed promoting those soldiers who could make it through many rounds of challengers. Only the very strongest and skilled were promoted to the upper ranks within the Foot Clan. Tyler didn't need to see his sister's face to know what she was thinking.

"I know, they're a bunch of nut jobs," he said over his shoulder to her. He heard her snort behind him and couldn't suppress a smile.

The lights had gone from bright to dim and flickering as they got closer. The walls went from clean and white to grimy and gray before too long. Tyler took a left and Deborah followed close behind him. They stopped at a large door with a programmed lock. Tyler punched in a code. They entered another dimly lit hallway, shorter than the others, that opened to a small room and a dead-end. Tyler pointed and they made a quick left through an open door frame into a corridor. At the end were four bolted and locked doors. The doors were windowless and black. A chill went through her and she rubbed her arms. He was behind one of those doors.

She swore as she wriggled teardrop and it sliced into her finger. TJ glanced at her from the corner of the opening where he stood guard watching for anyone entering the corridor through the large door.

"What's taking so long?" He asked through clenched teeth.

She answered with a glare as she sucked her finger and turned back to working the lock. Finally, there came a snapping sound followed by a low pop. She released the breath she was holding and picked up the bottle of water she'd brought and slipped inside.

As Deborah was working the lock, Raphael and Leonardo tensed. They braced themselves for more abuse and exchanged a brief, startled glance when the slight, blond woman entered like a thief. There was a stunned moment of silence as the three took in each other's appearances. Raphael visibly started as recognition dawned.

"_You_," he said. A wave of confused feelings washed over him. Relief, excitement, fear and anger mixed and coiled in his gut.

Leonardo's eyes darted back and forth, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Did Raphael just recognize this Foot soldier? He opened his mouth but had no idea what to say. How could this be? Would Raph keep such a secret from them? Feelings of betrayal and hurt danced inside him, but he pushed them away and took a steadying breath. If Raphael knew her, maybe she was here to help and they needed any help they could find.

With a shake of her head, Deborah snapped out of the momentary daze. She stepped over to Raphael uncapping the water bottle as she went. She moved closer to him, only a few inches separated them. Their eyes met and searched each other both full of questions. She felt her heart beating harder and that same feeling of joyful bliss filled it as she gazed into those green eyes. Remembering the bottle in her hand, she lifted it gently and Raphael opened his mouth watching her the whole time. He drank and closed his eyes with relief. Nothing could describe how good the water tasted and felt in his mouth and throat just then. Swallowing hard, he pulled his head back and shook it. She looked at him questioningly. He nodded to Leonardo.

"Give some to my brother," he said breathlessly. His voice was low and rough and Deborah was surprised to find how much she missed hearing the sound of it.

"Right," she said softly. "Your, uh, brother."

She turned and brought the bottle over to Leonardo. His throat closed in on itself as the sight of the water met his eyes. He couldn't control his body from shaking as he opened his mouth. Then the liquid hit his parched tongue. He gulped it down too fast and started to choke and sputter.

"Easy, easy," she said and gave him more, trying to better control how much flowed into his mouth. He finished, panting and eyed the last drops in the bottle with regret. He wished for more and at the same time felt guilty for not insisting that Raphael have the remainder.

The door opened with a slam and Tyler burst in. "Time to go."

Deborah shook her head. "What? No! I haven't gotten them free, yet."

He grabbed her wrist and she yanked free. "No! I'm not leaving." He pulled her by the arms as she struggled into the hallway just as a group of men turned the corner. They stopped abruptly. Deborah shrugged out of her brother's grasp and smoothed her sleeves as her brother straightened.

The look of shock on his face quickly replaced with a sly grin. "Ah, you caught me," he said with a shrug and nodded at Deborah. "My sister wanted me to show her our catch."

The men looked from Tyler to Deborah, unsure. Then one of them in the back laughed, breaking the tension. It was the guy she'd met in the hallway a few weeks ago. Her mind searched for the name...a Robert someone.

"I thought you said I'd get to show her, Tyler," Robert McKinley said. Tyler ran a hand through his hair.

"Sorry, man." Tyler smiled and looked sheepish. Deborah watched with no small amount of pride as her brother lied so smoothly. "She had a hard time believing her little brother did something so important. Eh, what're you guys doing here?"

One of them in the front held up a needle and raised his left eyebrow. The five of them brushed past Tyler and Deborah and entered the room where Leonardo and Raphael were chained. Deborah's stomach drop and her knees felt weak. She turned a desperate look at her brother who only stared back miserably. They turned and followed but could only stand in the doorway as the men filled the small space between Raphael and the entrance.

She saw some of their heads bobbing and the sound of fists hitting someone and low grunts as they grappled with Raphael. She heard his brother's cracking voice calling out and pleading for them to stop. She clawed at her hair and moved to jump on the back of one of the men in front of her. She felt the strong hands of her brother catch her and pull her back roughly before she made contact. His voice was in her ear.

_"No! No, Deb. They'll kill you if you interfere."  
_  
She struggled hard against his hold on her. "...got to do…something!"

"Not now."

He used his body to push her back and pin her to the wall as the five men emerged from the room. They half-carried, half-dragged an unconscious Raphael between them. A burlap bag covered his head. An anguished cry came from the cell behind them.

Just then the temperature in the cramped space dropped. Tyler's breath puffed in front of him. Time seemed to slow as four Foot soldiers, dressed all in black, turned the corner and entered the corridor. Deborah recognized them as the men on stage when her brother was rewarded for his betrayal of her trust. Though there was no room really to pass, they moved smoothly through the guards dragging Raphael away. One of them held a strange object in his hand. It looked like a container or a bowl.

Behind them the woman known as the Mistress followed. Her white gown flowed around her with each step as if a breeze toyed with the fabric. Her hood was down revealing her long white hair flowing freely over her shoulders. It coiled and almost seemed to move with a will of its own. Her face was one of perfect beauty. Deborah's breath caught in her throat. As the woman passed them, she made eye contact with Deborah. Deborah felt her stomach seize with an unknown terror. Deborah's body became completely still as a terrible smile spread across the woman's face. A voice spoke inside Deborah's mind.

_I know your heart, little lost girl.  
_  
The moment broke as the Mistress blinked and looked forward as she entered the room. Deborah gripped her brother's shoulders, panting and trembling.

"What the hell was that all about?" He asked quietly.

Deborah couldn't speak, only shook her head. She pushed out from behind her brother. Looking from the doorway to the corner, her heart was torn. Indecision glued her feet to the floor. She wanted to go with Raphael; yet, something terrible was going to happen to the one left in the room with that woman. As if reading her thoughts, Tyler grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her in the direction the soldiers went with Raphael.

"Go," he said.

She froze staring at her little brother with a frown. A wave of fear rooted her to the spot. He shoved her harder.

"_Go_, before you lose them! I'll see what I can do here."

She grabbed him then and pulled him into a rough hug. She held him tightly for a second and she felt him kiss the top of her head lightly.

"I'll be fine," he reassured her and held her at arm's length. "I'm a ninja, now, remember?"

She laughed a little then with one last look at her brother, dashed after the five men with Raphael.

Inside the room, Tyler heard a small strangled cry followed a few moments later with soft laughter. He swallowed and crept over to the door. Before he could do anything, the Mistress burst forth, walking past Tyler as he shrank against the wall trying to disappear. She took no notice of him.

"The preparations are made," she ordered over her shoulder, "take him up to the roof for the ceremony!"


	10. Chpt 10: Desperation and Distractions

Notes: I just want to give a BIG Thank You to my readers for the support and kind reviews. I can't tell you how much it builds up my courage and confidence with my writing.

**Chapter 10 - **Desperation and Distractions

As Deborah caught up with the group, Robert glanced over his shoulder. He raised his eyebrows.

"You coming along then?"

"Uh, yeah. I think I am." She was about to ask where exactly they were going when a thin guy in the front spoke up.

"You owe me ten bucks, Joe. I told you the girl soldiers love this shit." The guy name Joe only mumbled.

Robert smiled and had no right to look so handsome as he said what he did. "They're gonna tear him apart in the cage. You know, I was against drugging him. Didn't think it was fair."

Deborah swallowed back bile and forced what she hoped to be an interested and enthusiastic smile at him as they stumbled along to the elevator. If he had the ability to read her mind at that moment he would've crapped in his pants.

"We would've never got him there without a fight," said the guy named Joe. "I heard one of them was a hardass and by the look of this one's build," He hefted him up and got a better grip on Raphael's arm. "I'm guessing it's him."

They crowded into the elevator. Deborah stood stupidly outside looking in like a lost puppy.

"Use the stairs," Robert nodded at a door near the elevator. "Go up three flights, come to the red door and then find a seat. I'll find you inside, okay?" He finished with a big grin that Deborah wanted to tear off his face. With all the willpower she could muster, she tilted her head and gave a sweet nod and wave.

The door closed and she dashed to the door, pulled it open and took the steps two at a time. As she climbed higher the sound of music became louder and louder. The walls vibrated with it. It distracter her, the louder it grew. Robert's words bounced and echoed in her mind along with the beat. _They're gonna tear him apart._ Her heart sank.

She thought of the irony that the best night of her life had been on this very roof, those precious seconds when she looked into those eyes. The sadness there, the fear and the small spark of hope; she read all this in those deep green eyes. Inside she'd felt a joy she'd never known before then. The entire world changed in that instant. Amazing and wonderful possibilities, magic and mystery, hope and beliefs that were beaten out of her soul so long ago reawakened while she gazed into him. She blinked back tears. She had to save him somehow.

Panting, she paused outside the door to the third floor hallway. Placing a hand on the door, something about the music made her stop. She looked up the stairway. The room shifted a little like some small change just happened, but she couldn't figure what it was. The beat pounded around her, insistent. The main floor was up there. It was forbidden for any soldier to be there. That's where she needed to go. The nightclub. Before she could stop herself, her hand was on the stair rail. It was cold on her skin. Wait, what was she doing? The dark sensual beat answered. It called to something deep inside of her and she could not refuse the summons. Slowly she placed one foot then the next on the stairs and climbed to the next floor. Her head felt heavy and dizziness played around the edges of her vision.

She pushed open the door and the hypnotic music thundered around her and enveloped her as she slipped through. Flashing lights and the general sound of bodies dancing lured her closer. She moved along the dark hallway and peered through a beaded doorway out over a sea of people writhing and dancing. She jumped as someone put their hand on her shoulder. She spun around to find the gorgeous soldier from the auditorium standing next to her, very close.

"Hey, Deborah, right?" His voice spilled through the music like cream through coffee. His eyes sparkled in the laser lights as he took in her face. She swallowed and nodded, feeling her body grow warm.

"I guess I wasn't the only one curious, huh? We're not supposed to come up here, you know. But that music...that sound..." his voice trailed off and his eyes clouded. Then said this more to himself, "I had to check it out."

She stared stupidly at him, feeling her mind blur. The music filled her head with lights and sound and she couldn't keep her thoughts straight. Wasn't she going somewhere? There was something she had to do...something important...

"You want to...?"

He took her hand and numbly she let him. His fingers were smooth and cool against her skin. Desire fluttered through her like scattering birds. They moved into the crowd that swelled and accepted them without a break. The music swallowed her. She closed her eyes as it took her. Thought replaced by feeling. Logic replaced by desire. The beat matched her heart as Gorgeous danced close to her body. He touched her arms lightly and she raised them over her head. She moved closer to him. A giddy feeling flowed over her as their bodies pressed together, apart, and together, with the people around them doing the same. Like the lungs of a great beast, they expanded and contracted. And Deborah lost herself in it.

As the men pulled the bag over his brother's head and dragged him from the room, Leonardo felt his legs go weak as all hope drain from his body. When the woman came in that Raph seemed to know, he foolishly thought they'd finally be able to make an escape. But everything happened so quickly. She left them, still helpless and chained. Then those soldiers were hitting Raphael, and then one of them had a needle. Leonardo closed his eyes, his head hung low, as the image of the man injecting something into his brother's neck replayed in his mind. He fought back the frustrated tears that burned his eyes. Now, separated from his brother, Leonardo despaired. He swallowed back a sob. A noise made him raise his eyes. The black uniformed soldiers entered the room, the wretched woman in white followed.

"Terrific," he breathed, eyes bright with unshed tears.

She stepped swiftly to him and wasted no time in bringing out the silver blade. The guard handed her the small bowl. She said nothing as she brought the bowl up and under the side of his neck. Hunger, exhaustion, and fear had taken its toll on him and he struggled only weakly as she bent the blade to his jaw and cut into his skin. He closed his eyes with the pain of it, but made no sound. His blood flowed warm against his skin and into the bowl from the small, but deep wound.

Once she had what she needed she had one of the guards hold the bowl up chest level to her. She whispered into it. He watched blearily as her fingertips stroked the edge of the bowl. The contents began to glow a soft red, casting her features in strange shadows, making the gold of her eyes spark. His blood began to jump upwards in tiny pearls as she continued her spell. The scarlet pearls bounced and danced before her face. Faintly he heard a tinny sound that seemed to be coming from them. She stopped. His blood settled back. She turned a hungry gaze at him, smiling coldly.

"Perfect," she purred. "Now..."

She placed her hands on either side of his face and worked her fingers under his mask, slipping it off. She closed her eyes and concentrated. He felt a slight tremor inside his head as she probed, searching for something. He'd seen enough episodes of Space Heroes to recognize a telepathic search. He did his best to keep his mind a blank slate, terrified that despite his effort she'd be able to discover the location of their home. He was sure that that was what this was all about; their capture, their torture; to try and locate Splinter. But the Mistress sought something else.

"Your thoughts," she murmured, "oh, so innocent. I only need something..."

Suddenly, an episode of Space Heroes appeared in the front of his thoughts. It was the one where Captain Ryan had visited a planet and made contact with a female alien with green skin and hair. He was captured by her people. But he later escaped by seducing the alien female with a deep kiss. It wasn't his favorite episode, but there'd been something about that moment, that scene with the kiss, that filed it away in Leonardo's subconscious. He felt a tugging sensation as the Mistress seized upon the memory. As it pulled, a streak of pain shot through his head and he couldn't stifle his cry of pain. She released him and pulled away. A smirk upon her face, she laughed softly. Leonardo panted and swallowed.

"Ah, I have what I need," she said to her guards and turned to leave. "The preparations are made. Take him up to the roof for the ceremony!" She called as she left the room. The four guards came at him and he braced for the chance of escape.

...

Tyler counted to ten after the Mistress exited the corridor before he moved. He didn't have a plan as he rushed into the cell. He only knew he promised Deb he would try to do something to save the mutant. He stopped just inside the room and for a few heartbeats took in the scene before him.

The four personal guards of the Mistress had unchained the turtle. Two guards held his arms pinned back behind him. There was blood on the side of his neck. He struggled against them. His growling, thick and low, filled the air. It sounded like Tyler stepped into an angry lion's den. He kicked and bucked but the other guards were too fast. They moved in and struck him again and again across his face and body avoiding his retaliation with ease. He was losing strength with each blow he endured.

"Let him go," Tyler shouted into the fray and his voice was steady, strong.

Four masked faces turned in unison toward him. The turtle's knees shook as his feet slid against the ground trying to gain footing. The two holding him threw him down. He fell in an exhausted heap.

Tyler put up his fists. His feet shifting to a fighting stance. They came at him. They attacked from all sides. The two in front throwing swift kicks at his head. He blocked, left, right, and ducked. Crouching he came up fast with a right hook. The guard block it as another landed a solid punch into his side. Tyler crumbled and hit the wall, gasping. Another came at him, fist aimed for his face. He pulled back, dodging it. The fist struck the bricks making a deep cracked indention.

Panting, he spun with a round house kick. Before it made contact his target grabbed his ankle and twisted. Tyler's body followed and he fell to the floor, scraping the side of his body against the brick wall. His head slammed down painfully. He rolled to his side, facing the wall, as they kicked at his stomach and face, the blows now hitting his back and back of his neck. Bright explosions of pain erupted in front of his eyes.

He heard a grunt and a scuffling as he labored to regain his breath. He blinked rapidly, clearing the tears from his vision. He saw the turtle fighting the guards with stumbling effort. Even in his weakened state, Tyler could see the turtle fought with everything he had. Tyler winced as a guard landed a side kick to the turtle's stomach, knocking him back against the wall. They fell on him savagely.

With shaking shoulders, Tyler pushed himself off the floor. With a scream, launched himself into one of the men, knocking him over and off the beaten captive. With a frustrated howl, the guard spun out from under Tyler. He grabbed Tyler by the shoulders and slammed the back of his head against the bricks again and again. Something wet and hot spread across the back of his skull. Dazed, Tyler felt consciousness slipping.

Before the darkness took him, Tyler saw the guard's mask contort and twist. Where a man's mouth should be, the mask split open. Long black fangs glistened and a forked tongue lashed out as the creature let lose a growling hiss into Tyler's face. Darkness swallowed him.

…


	11. Chpt 11: Breaking Point

**Notes: **This should probably be an M rating here, but I'm not sure. I tried to keep things subtle while still being clear what was happening. Buckle your seat-belts! Hope you enjoy the ride :D

**Chapter 11 – Breaking Point**

As consciousness painfully brought Raphael back to reality, the first thing he felt was the sound. The music pulsed and mixed with the roaring cheers and laughter of a crowd of people. The heavy rhythm of it all pounded an assault against his ears; vibrating his shell; disorientating him. His hands were bound behind him. His legs felt heavy and weak. His feet shuffled and he stumbled forward, unable to catch himself. Raphael gritted his teeth and braced for the impact, but the foot soldiers escorting him grabbed him roughly by his upper arms, stopping his fall and pushing him forward through the crowd. Hands smacked at him as he walked on. Taunting voices calling rude remarks rose up around him. Something was thrown at him, hitting him in the head and shoulders.

The escort stopped him. He heard a scraping sound like a metal grate opening. His hands were suddenly ripped free from the rope and the burlap bag pulled quickly from his head. Before he could turn to face the soldiers who brought him there, one of the men kicked him in the back. The force of the blow knocked him forward and he landed on his hands and knees onto the gravel covered floor. The crowd roared. The ground swayed and he shook his head trying to get some clarity.

Her face suddenly rose up in his memory: her eyes looking into his. In the cell, she brought him water. She wanted to rescue them. He was sure of it. But then…the soldiers came…the needle…Leo? He closed his eyes tightly, losing his train of thought.

The rhythmic music flooded down from above, making it harder to focus on where he was and what was happening. He became aware that the frenzy of voices suddenly died down. He raised his head; blinking in the smoky light; trying in vain to clear his blurred vision. His head swam and he felt waves of exhaustion and nausea wash over him. He swallowed and took in a ragged breath.

He was in some sort of large cage. Stadium-style seats rose up around it, filled with dozens of people crowded together, some wearing the uniform of the foot clan. The best seat of the house, separated from the rest to allow for the best view, directly in front of where Raphael knelt, belonged to none other than the Shredder.

The blades covering his arms and shoulders gleamed. His hands tented in front of his face, head bent slightly forward, eyes regarding the visibly shaken turtle. His low, threatening voice spoke, cutting through the oppressive bass of the music.

"Begin."

Another gate opened to Raphael's right. He swung his head to see an enormous man, clad in nothing but black jeans, steel-toed boots and tattoos, stepped inside. Raph knew his situation had just gone from bad to much, much worse. He could only hope that his brother was faring better than he was at the moment.

**…**

Leonardo opened his eyes. The darkening expanse of the sky greeted him. Angry-looking clouds rolled above him as a chilled wind bit at his exposed flesh. He was on a roof, on his back. The sound of music with a heavy repeating bass pulsed around him. Its hypnotic thrum distracted his thoughts; made it hard to focus. It was coming from somewhere inside the building below.

He became dimly aware that he was not alone. The Mistress's four guards stood at each corner of the black, silk covered mattress he laid upon. They held his wrists and ankles, pinning him. His muscles bunched with effort as he tried to break free from their grasp and sit up. He couldn't move. A wave of panic washed over him. He struggled again with no success. He found he couldn't turn his head much, only shift it slightly. Some invisible force flowed through the men holding him. They wouldn't let him move no matter how much he struggled against it and seemed to be only using the slightest effort to keep him still. After several minutes of trying, it was clear that his efforts were futile. Exhaustion came over him like a heavy blanket. His body ached as his muscles slumped. The side of his throat felt sticky with the clotted blood from the earlier wound. Pain and despair fought for dominance in his suffering.

"I have waited patiently through millennia for my time to return home."

Her voice came out of the dark; slicing through the music; speaking to him. Leonardo's eyes darted about.

**...**

Inside the club, the sweat ran in thin rivers down the sides of Deborah's face, pooling in the hollow of her throat as she danced on. Slowly she reached down and unzipped the top of her uniform; revealing the lacey black edges of her bra. The intensity of the guy's stare in front of her brought a smile to her face. She slid her fingers along the edge of her bra, tantalizing him. Her finger pricked something sharp. She frowned and raised her fingertip to her face. A pearl of scarlet glimmered in the pulsing lights.

Blood. From what? She stared in a daze as the pearl grew and slithered down her finger. Blood. Blood on his face. Blood from them beating him.

_They're gonna tear him apart. _

Deborah gasped and curled her hand into a fist. She looked around, stunned. _Where the hell am I?_ The guy fumbled at her arms as she turned away.

"Hey, don't go, baby." His voice slurred. He smiled; his face was cast in gruesome shadows. Everyone around them shared the same hypnotized and drained look. She yanked free from his grasp and shoved him away. The crowd barely registered the commotion as he fell back and Deborah elbowed her way through to the exit.

**...**

Slinking from the shadows, the Mistress approached Leonardo. She wore a sheer white gown gathered at her shoulders with a golden clasp. Her hair cascaded over her chest down to her waist in ripples. Her eyes roved over his supine body and stopped when they met his.

The words fell from his mouth; knowing it was useless. "Let me go-"

She placed a finger to his mouth silence him. Her eyes stared into his but did not see him: instead they turned inward, scanning memories of ages long past.

"Great men of this world worshipped me. In golden palaces they cowered at my feet." Her hand slid down his chin to his throat; resting for a moment at his pulse, feeling it race beneath her fingertips.

"I am the architect of power. I am the prize wicked and righteous men have spilled blood for through the centuries. I've had many names here: Salome, Cleopatra, Marozia, The Rose of Martinique, Eva Braun…" she paused, bringing her gaze back to him, "it goes on and on. I made the most of my exile here. But now, I _will_ go home." She stepped away from him. The wind whipped at her hair, lashing at her gown.

Leonardo couldn't disguise the fear he felt. His body began trembling uncontrollably. He wanted to find Raphael and go home. The image of the soldiers pulling the bag over Raphael's head flashed before him. He'd failed to protect his brother. He failed to honor his father. He struggled weakly and felt shame constrict his heart as a pathetic moan slipped from between his clenched teeth.

"Oh, there is no need for your last moments to be in suffering. I will make this pleasurable. For you are my vessel, my _savior_. Because of your unique existence in this vacant world as well as your pure and innocent heart, I finally have the means to return to my reality." Leonardo frowned as she raised her hands above her head then moved her palms over the front of her face.

"There is not much magic here, but over time I've mastered what little there is and added it to my own." Lightning flashed a dazzling white streak across the black clouds behind her. As her hands moved down her appearance began to change. "_Desire_, even in the most righteous and pure, is _powerful_ magic. Can you feel it? Rising from below, lust in all its glorious forms?" The green-skinned alien from Space Heroes now stood before him.

Leonardo's eyes widened; he swallowed as she leaned over him. She pressed her mouth to his. Shock waves streaked through his exhausted body as she kissed him deeply. A deep yearning blossomed suddenly within him. A need, primal and fierce, speared through him. She pulled away; slipped the straps of her dress over her shoulders and her gown fell to the floor. The wind tore it free from the roof as she moved over him. His body quaked at her touch; small sounds escaped his throat.

"_Huh…ah…_"

**...**

Raphael pushed with numb arms and shaking shoulders against the gravel and stood. His feet shifted and he brought up his fists; swaying a little as he did. The tattooed man tilted his head left and right, popping the bones and bounced lightly on his toes. Then he brought up his fists. The crowd cheered.

Fast, moving in a blur, the soldier feinted with his right and then shot out with his left fist. Raphael swung his head; dodging the blow; the quick movement making his head spin. He stumbled back. His shell hit the cage and the man came in close, pummeling Raphael's stomach and finishing with a right hook to his jaw. Stars exploded in his vision. Raphael's body spun. Weakly, he clung to the side of the cage. The man's hand took the back of his head and slammed his face against the metal bars. Blood streamed from his mouth as he choked, fighting to take in air; his body curled in a ball. He brought his feet under himself and lurched out of the way just as the steel-toed boot struck where his head was a moment before.

**...**

Leonardo's body writhed beneath the Mistress. Pleasure and terror warred inside him. His confused mind cried out: _Stop!_ Another voice, deeper inside him argued: _No, don't stop!_ The clouds above his head roiled in great black and gray rounded columns. Lightning cut through the darkness in streaks of blue and white. The thunder crashed around them, shaking the building. The gathering storm nearly split the sky in two; the fury of it rocked through their bodies.

**...**

Raphael spun, attempting a side kick. The soldier knocked his foot away like a child swatting at a fly. Raphael blinked hard. His vision blurred: now there were two soldiers smirking at him. He swallowed; gritted his teeth against the pain. The metallic taste of blood soured his stomach. He lunged forward, throwing his punches like attacking the punching bag at home. Left, right, left again; striking his ribs and stomach. The man braced himself, taking the punishment with low grunts. His fist came up in a sidewinder smashing into Raphael's stomach. Raphael staggered backwards and fell to one knee.

The crowd rose to their feet in a frenzy of blood lust. Some of the voices cut through the melee.

_"Rip his shell off!" "Break his neck!" "Kill that freak!"_

_Bastards_, Raphael thought, _what'd I ever do to any of ya?_

**...**

Leonardo's hands clenched, unclenched and twisted; his legs quivered and shook; the guards held fast. His already raw skin at his wrists protested with sharp cutting pain that he barely registered. The Mistress placed her hands against his chest, relishing the hammering rhythm of his heart. The façade of the Space Heroes character fell away as she lost concentration; passion enveloped her. Her eyes blazed white and empty. His heart galloped in his chest, beating faster than it ever had. So fast he thought he was dying. His limbs shook and where the guards held him, his skin began to burn. The music, his heart and her movements joined together to create one pounding rhythm trampling him beneath.

His mind cried out desperately. _Father! Help me!_

**...**

In the quiet of the lair, Splinter staggered forward from the cushion where he'd been only half-meditating. He gripped his chest and stared around the empty lair. For a moment he'd heard his son's frantic plea for help lance through his mind like a blade. He stumbled into the kitchen. With shaking claws he splashed water onto his face. He gripped the side of the sink; leaned against it.

"My son," his voice trembled in the emptiness. His head dropped. He silently cursed his heart as a coward for not accompanying his sons to find Leonardo and Raphael. He prayed his weakness and fear would not mean their demise.

**...**

As April drove along the outskirts of the industrial park, Donatello never took his eyes off the flickering green screen of his locator. Mikey glanced out the window.

"There's a wicked storm comin' in. I hope we find them before it starts to…"

Bleep…bleep. Donatello grabbed the device with two hands then punched the dashboard. "April, I think I've got something!"

They made eye contact. The joy in Donatello's expression reflected her own. April reached over and squeezed Donatello's hand.

"You did it, Donnie. Lead the way!"

**...**

In the chaos, no one noticed as Deborah entered the arena room. She crept down the bleachers stacked twelve feet high on either side of her. She'd seen terrible things while surviving on the streets with her brother. Things she'd like to forget; things that stalked her nightmares. The set up around her reminded her of the dog fights she'd attended. The men surrounding the ring were just as vicious and savage as the contenders.

She stood in the shadows of the raving men, searching. There in the cage that took up the center of the room. Off to one side, he was on his knees; his face a battered mess. His skin gleamed with sweat and blood. Her heart sank into her stomach and her legs turned to rubber as she took in the damage that Raphael had sustained. She raced down to the side of the cage, slamming into it. An enormous man stood between her and Raphael. Panic stampeded through her body. She had to do something!

**…**

Tyler moaned. He cracked his eyes open a bit. The room spun and he reclosed his eyes. His head throbbed and gingerly he touched the back of his head with his fingertips. They came back bloody. He slowly breathed in and out and pulled away from the wall. His stomach turned and he thought he'd be sick but it passed. _Okay, I'm okay. _Using the wall as support he got to his feet. He paused, forehead pressed gently against the bricks.

"I'm okay," he muttered. _Got to get to the roof._ He turned, swayed and steadied himself with the wall. "I'm okay," he repeated and staggered out of the cell.

**...**

Using the back of his shaking hand, Raphael wiped the blood from his mouth. His breath labored. He couldn't keep this up. Legs weak, knees wobbling, he stood and brought his fists up. Blood and sweat stung his eyes. His vision doubled and he swayed to the left but straightened before falling over. He gave a short shake of his head. The man looked down at Raphael and snorted. He then turned in a slow circle, hands out above his head. The crowd went wild. Their voices raged down around the cage. The Shredder nodded his head once, approvingly.

_They want my blood_, Raphael thought grimly.

Fatigued and hurting; head spinning with darkness blurring the edges of his vision; the bull-necked man reveling in his pain: Raphael felt something deep inside break. Rancor turned his sight red. They wanted blood? He'd give them blood. Raphael snarled and lunged at the man just as he finished turning in a circle. The man stumbled to the side from the impact; slamming into the bars as they wrestled. His fists rained down on top of Raphael's head. Raphael's legs quaked with every blow. Raphael jabbed him again and again with his fist all the while keeping him tight and close. The man twisted free and stomped his boot down across the side of Raphael's leg between his knee and ankle. A sickening snap, like a thick branch being broken in two, cut through the noise: Raphael screamed.

Across from them, with white knuckles gripping the metal bars, Deborah's scream blended with Raphael's. Her left hand slid down. It left a smear of blood on the bar, galvanizing her. Quickly she reached into the pocket of her bra and withdrew her teardrops. She backed up between the rows of seating and crouched. With a silent prayer she drew back her arm and fired them just as she had practiced in the dojo for the last two years.

**…**

Leonardo opened his mouth, the words were clear in his mind, _stop_, _stop_, _no more_, but only panting gasps and soft groaning sound came from his throat. Body trembling, eyes shut tight, heart pounding; he reached the very precipice of terror and joy. The Mistress threw her head back and shrieked into the thundering sky.

_"Now!"_

The four guards reared back and brought their open mouths down upon his wrists and ankles. Their fangs and dagger-like teeth tore into the tender flesh. The agonizing pain as they sucked the blood from his wounds caused Leonardo's shuddering muscles to seize. They released him and one by one the Mistress drew them into her gaping mouth. With arms outreached overhead she opened her mouth wide and a black shadow shot from it into the sky above them. It cracked the air in two as bright light blinded him and the portal to her world opened. Tears flowed from his clenched eyes down the sides of his face. Distantly he heard her scream in triumph. His heart began to slow as the building beneath them started to shake violently.

** …**

Clutching his broken leg, Raphael looked up just as his opponent reached down with enormous hands and grabbed him by the throat. As he felt the grip tighten, a spasm shot through the man's body. His eyes turned into round circles of shock. The fingers released Raphael and flew to the side of his neck.

Raphael wasted no time and clambered up onto the man's shoulders and locked his head into a sleeper hold. The crowd's voices crashed around him as he twisted with all the strength left in him. The man's neck made a satisfying snapping sound as Raphael broke it. He went down in a heap with Raphael still on top of him. Blearily, he noticed blood pouring from the back of the man's neck where the tips of four throwing stars protruded. Raphael's vision doubled. He peered out into the angry mob of Foot soldiers, as they blurred and continued to spin to one side, seeking his ally; afraid to hope there was a friend in there somewhere.

The gate opened in front of him drawing his attention. The Shredder entered the cage; the spikes and steel of his armor plates gleaming. Raphael's eyelids fluttered. This was the end, he was sure. The floor and walls began to rumble and shake: Raphael slipped into darkness.

**…**


	12. Chpt 12: Escape

**CHAPTER 12 - Escape**

The walls shook and the floor bounced beneath her feet as Deborah stumbled forward. Soldiers pushed her this way and that as the panicked men flew from their seats in a mad dash to get out of the room. She fell forward against the cage; gripped the bars to keep her steady and on her feet. She saw the Shredder turn away from the turtle and dash out of the cage; moving with the grace of a tiger catching the scent of injured prey. Relief and shock hit her as she watched him move effortlessly through the chaos and slip through the exit.

Wasting no time, she shoved her way through the mad rush of bodies towards the opening of the cage. Scrambling in, she nearly fell on top of him but stopped short; feet skidding in the gravel. Kneeling, with a shaking hand, gently, she reached out and touched the top of his head. Still lying on top of the giant man; his eyes were closed; mouth opened slightly to breathe. His body flinched from the contact. Weakly, he batted away her hand. A rumbling growl came out of him; soft and low.

She shot a quick glance around. The arena was emptying out, thank goodness. No one paid any attention to her or the injured turtle. Pieces of the ceiling started to rain down in chunks and dusty bits.

"Easy."

She reached around his shoulders. Again he flinched away from her. His hands curled into fists. His left eye was swollen badly; blood covered the rest of his face in a grisly mask. He turned his head; one eye opened a crack.

"Nouh...get...'way."

"I'm trying to help you." She gritted her teeth and attempted to lift his arm and put it around her shoulders. His arm alone was so heavy. Her heart sank. _If he doesn't help me here we're both screwed._ "C'mon. Up. Get up."

"Ungh," he groaned.

His large hand came around and gripped her shoulder tightly. His breath hitched. She knew he was in a lot of pain. His face was a few inches from hers. He gazed at her blearily. Blinking, he frowned, trying to make out what he was seeing.

"Wh...Who?" His eyelids fluttered and his head lulled heavily against the bare skin of her chest.

"_Shit_."

...

The door leading to the roof slammed open; the wind throwing it hard against the jam. Shredder stepped out onto the roof. The gusts tore at his clothes. Debris: paper, small stones, pieces of the roof, hit his body as he strode forward; one arm shielding his face. He stopped.

Before him on a raised platform was the Mistress. She stood naked over the supine form of what looked like to be the other turtle his men had captured. Her body gleamed a dark gold; the edges shimmered and blurred like an unfocused image on film; her hair a wild mane whipping around her head like white flames. She turned to him. Where her face should be was only a mask of gold; hovering an inch or so from her flesh. The skin behind it only a great blinding light. Her eyes were empty sockets, the bright light shining through; right through him. Slowly she pointed with her right hand. His eyes followed and he gasped at the sight of the portal opening.

"No," he said, his voice breaking. Reaching up, he threw off his helmet; took two steps forward and reached out to her. She lifted her foot and stepped up into the air.

...

"Here?" April shouted over the noise of thunder cracking. She pulled the van roughly to one side of the building. It rocked side to side as it came to a stop.

They jumped out of the van. Donatello held the device up. The strands of his mask slapped against his neck and face as the wind gusted. He pointed. They ran to the front of the building, stopping as the ground gave a mighty heave. April noticed the sign. _Ke-ji._ She looked at Donatello with a puzzled expression.

"It means cage," Donatello said and exchanged a look with Michelangelo. April repeated, "Cage." She swallowed back her fear. "Let me go in first."

Donatello grabbed her wrist, "Wait, this place is shaking like it's having its own personal earthquake. It might be dangerous..."

She placed her hand on top of his. "If there are people around, they can't see you. I'll be right back."

He let her go with a pained nod. He watched her run inside, trepidation growing with each second he lost contact with her. A moment later she popped out. Her face white. She gestured for them to come. Michelangelo and Donatello rushed to her side.

"What is this place?" Mikey asked. He put his hand on the wall to steady himself as the floor rumbled and shook.

"I think it was some kind of night club or dance hall," April said as they took in the bodies sprawled all over the floor. She brought her hands up. "Oh god. What happened here?"

"Are they all...?" Mikey began; his face paling. Donatello knelt near a girl laying on her back closest to the door. He put his fingertips along one side of her neck. He gave a short shake of his head. Michelangelo looked around the room and said softly, "Oh man."

Donatello's expression was grim as he stood. The room trembled; plaster sprinkled from the ceiling like artificial snow flakes.

"We have to find Leo and Raph." He held up the locator. The insistent beeping was dying down. "We have to hurry."

They moved around the perimeter to an exit, carefully avoiding touching anyone laying in their path. Michelangelo squeezed April's hand; his eyes bright in the dim light. April swallowed; gave him a reassuring nod; squeezed his hand back. She said a silent prayer for the dead as she followed behind Donatello. They paused at a stairway. April laid a hand gently on Donatello's shoulder.

"Up or down?"

"_Holy shit_," a voice called from above them. Donatello jumped and looked up; his staff out in a flash in front of him. A young man in a Foot soldier uniform leaned over the stair railing. He seemed disorientated; his brown hair mussed; one hand bloody. They grabbed at the railing as another seizure shook the walls and floor.

"If you're looking for the other one..." he panted, shook his head and pointed up.

Donatello looked at April, "Up it is."

...

Struggling and swearing, Deborah pulled Raphael off the dead man's body. Sweat ran down her face; her hair stuck to her cheeks from it. She patted the sides of Raphael's face. Her hands were sticky from his blood.

"C'mon, c'mon. Don't give up now, you're almost free."

He moaned. She slapped him harder and he shook his head. His good eye opened a crack. She crouched as he struggled and brought his leg under to stand but as soon as he tried to move his injured leg he crumbled into her with a strangled cry. Her knees shook. His weight was almost too much for her. She shifted and managed to prop him up. Slowly, painfully, they moved through the gravel and out of the cage.

He clung to her; one arm across the front of her, gripping her waist, the other around her shoulders; head hanging low to one side against her chest. The room shuddered and large pieces of the ceiling came down around them. Dust clouded the air. With every move he groaned and grunted through gritted teeth. Deborah's heart constricted as she considered the terrible pain he must be in. But thinking that way was not getting them out of there. She pushed the sympathetic thoughts from her mind.

"Almost there. Almost there." She repeated it through her clenched jaw; like a mantra; like a prayer; with each laboring step. She had to keep him conscious.

"So, you got a name?" she asked.

"R...Raph. Raphael," he grunted, "ungh, you?"

"I'll tell you later."

She heard him snort softly. At least he still has a sense of humor. That was a good sign.

...

Leonardo heard someone calling. Then only the sound of the wind howling all around him. He was dimly aware of the Mistress floating above him. The golden light blazed overhead. It hurt to look at it. Tears streamed from his eyes; tears of shame and failure and fear. He shivered; wanted to sleep; felt the heaviness pulling him down. He heard the voice again. He blinked slowly as it dawned on him that the voice was coming from inside his head.

**"Leonardo, my son."  
**  
It was Splinter's voice. Leonardo's body trembled, his mouth grimaced and he turned his head slightly. Shame coated his heart like tar.

_I...I'm sorry, Father, I've failed you. I couldn't stop. She...  
_  
**"No, my son. You must not despair. Get up, Leonardo.**"

_No. I can't...  
_  
Splinter's voice, laced with fury, interrupted, **"There is no choice here. Your brothers need you. Your weakness cannot let them down again."  
**  
Leonardo cringed. Fresh tears rolled down his faced. A sob lodged in his throat. He just wanted to rest now. He was so very tired.

**"Now, my son, get up. Get up...Get up..."** The commanding voice faded replaced by the cries of the wind.

Leonardo painstakingly turned his head to one side. He brought his trembling right arm across his body and used the momentum to roll to his side; to the edge. The blanket beneath him was slick with his blood. As he moved, it colored his body like red paint. He fell from the mattress onto the chilled cement roof floor with a grunt. Waves of nausea washed over him. He retched and gagged.

...

Donatello and Michelangelo raced past the young man on the stairs. Donatello made a mental note that the back of the guy's head was injured; the back of his neck, bloody. _Concussion_, Donatello thought, running past him. April grabbed his arm and helped him up the rest of the stairs to the roof. The wind fought against them as they emerged outside. Donatello and Michelangelo's heads snapped around, searching for any sign of their brother.

Donatello opened his mouth to call out when Michelangelo's hand cupped it shut. Michelangelo put his other hand on Donatello's chest and then pointed. Donatello's gaze followed and widened as he saw the Shredder and the golden woman. His eyes grew round. His mind refused to accept what he saw. The Shredder was holding the hand of a woman whose skin was glowing as she was floating four feet in the air. In front of her was a great tear in the air; bright light spilled from it, illuminating the area. He felt Mikey's hand pat him on the arm.

_"There!"_ His voice near Donatello's ear; quiet, urgent. Near the Shredder; on the other side of the raised platform; something green; a leg and foot.

"Just great," Donatello hissed.

He gestured to Michelangelo with his head then dove and somersaulted to the side of the raised platform where he spotted his brother's leg. The Shredder was just on the other side, but thankfully he was too preoccupied with the glowing woman to notice him.

Carefully, he crept over Leonardo's body. His hands and eyes took in the damage that he saw there; calculating what he needed to do to help his brother survive his injuries; pushing away the growing dread that he may not survive. He reminded himself to breathe in and out. Michelangelo bumped him from behind. His voice was breathless in Donatello's ear.

"Oh man, oh man, Donnie." They exchanged terrified looks at their brother's condition. They jumped and cringed as the Shredder started to scream at the golden woman above them.

...

"You cannot leave me," Shredder's voice rose above the wind.

Her voice reverberated around them. It sounded as if it came from all around them, having no point of origin.

"My time here is at an end. Saki, I leave you saddened that I could not fulfill my promises to you. But hear this: If you do not release yourself from the trap of petty revenge, if you do not let go of your lost love, you will not rise above what you are now."

Her hand slid from Shredder's grasp. She turned and stepped through the portal. The light intensified until the entire roof blazed from it. With a mighty crash of thunder the portal closed. She was gone.

Shredder staggered forward a step. He stared into the empty air; lowered his hand. His eyes roved over the raised platform before him. He reached down and felt between his finger and thumb the blood-coated blanket. Movement caught his eye. Using two hands, he gripped the blanket and tore it free; knocking over the mattress as he did; revealing the turtles crouching there. Two sets of wide eyes shot up at him. An inhuman roar erupted from the Shredder as he turned his rage and loss onto them.

...

"I don't think this building can take much more of this!" April shouted into Tyler's ear. "Maybe we should go down. The turtles can handle-" She stopped just as the Shredder discovered their hiding spot and roared.

"On second thought..."

Tyler pulled loose from April's arms and strode forward. His legs wavered with the swaying and shaking of the building and the throbbing of the back of his head. He broke into a run and threw his body into Shredder's as the two turtles jumped up protectively over the prone body of their brother. The two of them hit the ground in a writhing mass. Donatello and Michelangelo wasted no time and gathered Leonardo into their arms and rushed to the exit where April stood.

"Oh my God, Leo!" April gasped as they rushed by her.

She looked back at Tyler just as the Shredder flung him off. She watched helpless and immobile as he pounced on the boy and stabbed him repeatedly with the blades on his knuckles in the stomach again and again.

"Oh, no..."

"April!" Donatello's voice called from below. "April?"

She heard fear in his tone and turned with a saddened heart from the grisly sight. She dashed down the stairs, skipping two at a time, before Donatello panicked and came back up for her. A massive shuddering of the building made her slip, but she caught herself and continued down. Chunks of the ceiling fell all around them as they stumbled through the bodies on the main level and out into the parking lot.

Donatello and Michelangelo were carefully loading Leonardo into the back of her van. A trail of blood led from the nightclub doors to his body. April swallowed back bile as Donatello turned to her; hands and arms coated in Leonardo's blood. Michelangelo could be heard inside the van talking in a high-pitched voice, reassuring Leonardo that he was going to be okay.

"I've got to go back inside..." Donatello said as part of the roof buckled inward. The ground shook beneath them.

"No, Donnie! It's coming down!"

He gripped her arms tightly, his eyes bright as he said, "Raph is still in there somewhere."

...

Deborah's legs gave out and she collapsed near a dumpster in the back of the building. Raphael grunted and cried out in pain as he crumpled to the ground. He clutched at his broken leg, cursing. Deborah's head dropped as she leaned her hands on her thighs; trying to catch her breath.

"We've gotta get away from this building," Deborah said between panting breaths. Raphael nodded then shook his head.

"No shit...but I can't...walk."

Deborah swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, I know, so, I'm sorry about this, but I've got to get back inside to find my brother."

She stood up and grabbed him under his arms; twisting his body around and away from the rocking building. She grunted and pulled. He struggled weakly and groaned and swore from the pain as she gained momentum; dragging him faster and finally stumbled backwards into the bushy overgrowth behind the building. He let loose a string of nasty curses, his voice cracking.

"I know," she gasped, "you're welcome." She struggled to her feet. Her head spun and she careened to one side, steadying herself with the trunk of a small tree.

As she emerged from the bushes a red-headed girl stood in front of her out of nowhere. Her clothes were a mess and her sleeves were coated in blood. For a second, Deborah thought she was hallucinating.

"Who are you? What are you doing with Raphael?" She demanded.

"Get out of my way." Deborah pushed past her but was stopped by another turtle holding a long staff out in front of her, blocking her. "Get out of my way!" She repeated to him. He stepped sideways as the red-headed girl rushed into the bushes.

"He's here, Donnie. He's hurt pretty bad; I think his leg is broken!"

The turtle in front of her narrowed his eyes. Deborah put up her hands.

"Hey, I didn't do it. I'm the one who got him out of there."

The turtle looked her up and down, not checking her out, but he seemed to be measuring her up, gauging if he could trust her. She didn't have time for this bullshit. She grabbed the staff and shoved it to the side.

"If you don't mind, I've gotta go get my brother."

"Brother?" April's question made Deborah stop. The building heaved as another section of the roof started to collapse.

"Dammit, yes! My brother. Tall kid, about seventeen, light brown hair."

The red-head's face paled. She brought her hand over her mouth. A faint moan came out between her fingers. Deborah's stomach twisted. Deborah took two steps closer to her and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Why do you look like that?"

"Hey, let her go!"

Deborah shook her roughly, "Do you know something? _Answer me_!"

Donatello grabbed Deborah under her arms, pulling her back and away from April. Deborah struggled and growled.

April wrung her hands and said softly, "H...He was helping us. On the roof and the Shredder..."

"What! What?" Deborah cried out. Her face was a mask of anguish.

"The Shredder killed him."

Deborah's body went completely still. She stared at April. She asked quietly, in a strained voice, "how do you know..."

"I...I saw everything. I…saw him die."

Deborah's legs gave out from beneath her. Donatello stumbled as she crumbled to the ground in front of him in a heap. Donatello and April exchanged stunned glances then he dashed around April to where Raphael lay in the bushes. April stepped cautiously over to the prone form of the woman. She placed her hand on the woman's back. Neither spoke. But April could feel the woman's body trembling and hear the strangled, choking, gasps coming from her throat.

Behind them, the building's structure finally gave way and collapsed with an ear-splitting crash. The shock waves rocked the ground. In an instant the noises died away and faded leaving a ringing silence in its wake.

...

**A/N:** I just want to extend a BIG thank you to all my readers who have offered me support and encouragement. It's never easy when you create a character only to have that character leave so soon. Tyler's death in the above chapter was something that I really thought about. But finally decided that what I have planned for Deborah, it had to happen. As always, I appreciate feedback and love reading your comments. :D


	13. Chpt 13: Now and Later

**CHAPTER 13 - Now and Later  
**  
"Donnie, Don, _DONNIE_!" Michelangelo's scream cut through the silent aftermath of the building's collapse.

A startled Donatello emerged from the bushes with Raphael leaning heavily against him. Michelangelo raced up to them. He grabbed Donatello's arm and started to pull him, making Raphael stumble forward out of Donatello's fumbling grasp onto the ground near April and Deborah. He went down in a crumpled heap, his legs folding under him. The side of his face struck the ground as he skidded forward.

"_F…fuck_!" Raphael cursed through clenched teeth. He gripped the soil and grass in his fists as he screamed in pain.

Donatello's eyes went everywhere at once. Raphael, Michelangelo, April, Michelangelo. His heart hammered as he swallowed back the panic fighting to gain dominance in his mind. He had to stay calm for them. He had to think. _Think!_ Lightning flashed and a crack of thunder rolled around them shaking the ground.

"Raph! Oh God, I'm s...sorry!"

Michelangelo crouched to touch the top of Raphael's head, but stopped before making contact. He turned quickly back to Donatello.

"Leo..." Mikey's voice pleaded, "it's Leo, he's...just c'mon!" Michelangelo pulled at Donatello's arm.

With a last glance at April, Raphael and the woman still laying face-down in the ground he ran with Michelangelo to the van. The van bounced and shuddered. Donatello hesitated a moment; terror flashed through him, freezing him, but Michelangelo pushed him forward. Inside, Leonardo's body was convulsing. The blood had seeped through the thin bandages that Michelangelo had wrapped his wounds in. Drips of it flew through the air as his body jumped, painting the interior in small smatterings of crimson. Donatello climbed in and over his brother and cradled Leonardo's head with his hands, protecting it from slamming into the hard floor of the van.

"Grab his legs, Mikey!" he shouted.

With a brief nod, Michelangelo wrapped his arms around Leonardo and clung to his brother's bloody shins. Tears streamed from his eyes as he struggled to keep him still. His legs kicked with much force again and again. After what seemed like an hour, the convulsions eased back, changing into short bursts of jumping spasms. Michelangelo panted; looked at Donatello, his eyes were bright with unshed tears and panic.

"What'll we do?"

Donatello gently laid Leonardo's head back. Leonardo moaned softly as he did. Foam dripped from the corner of his mouth.

"We've got to get him and Raph home..." The sound of sirens howling made him pause; frowning, mouth open slightly. They exchanged a terrified look. "We have to get out of here..._Now_!"

April crouched next to Raphael. He leaned back, propped up on one elbow, his unharmed leg bent at the knee. Gently she reached around his carapace, grabbed under his arm, attempting to help him up; bring him to his feet. A spattering of fat rain drops hit them then; cold and stinging against their skin. He shook his head and bit back another string of swear words as she fumbled; lifting him a few inches only to slip and drop him back down. His limbs shook with pain; body slick with rain and sweat. He dropped his head down; moaned piteously. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could endure.

"Oh, God, Raph, I'm so sorry!"

She looked at the van desperately then back at him. _Where_ _was Donatello? What was happening with Leonardo?_ Running a damp hand through her hair in frustration, she knew they were in trouble, but then froze as she heard the sound of the sirens in the distance. Her heart dropped into her stomach. The woman who's brother helped them raised her head from the ground at the sound. Her face streaked with tears; hair mussed; nose red. April saw her and Raphael make eye contact. Something passed between them and April felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. April wondered who this person was exactly and why did it seem that she had a connection with Raphael. She sat up on her knees and then shakily got to her feet.

April knelt next to Raphael and placed a protective hand across Raphael's chest as she approached them. Stunned, she watched Raphael reach out to the woman, slipping slightly out of her protective touch. She crouched and brought Raphael's arm around her shoulders, she glanced at April as she did, and April understood. Quickly, she did the same with his other arm and together they hoisted him up and half-carried, half-dragged him to the van.

His eyes were closed and small sounds squeezed out from his mouth. His body trembled with each strained breath he took. When they finally made it to the van, he spotted Leonardo laying inside and a faint cry escaped from his throat. Michelangelo gently moved Leonardo's unconscious body to one side and helped the ladies ease Raphael into the back; sneaking a quick kiss to the top of his head before Raphael could protest. April ran to the front of the van and climbed in.

Deborah stared wide-eyed at Michelangelo who had his hand on the door of the van. His blue eyes met hers, searching, questioning. His eyes took in the uniform she wore. The questions were there written in his eyes. He glanced over his shoulder back at Raphael. She swallowed. _Now what?_ Thunder boomed above; rolling and echoing all around them. She winced, feeling foolish and out of place. He seemed to come to a decision then and reached out and took her arm and pulled her roughly inside, just as she was about to bolt.

Deborah exhaled the breath she'd been holding. Clumsily she climbed over the one on the floor; careful to not jostled his legs and sat with her knees up next to Raphael. She rubbed her damp, sore arms to warm them and felt Raphael shivering. She draped her arm around his shoulders, felt him jump a little at the contact. To her surprise, he leaned into her; then again, maybe it was simply due to the cramped conditions in the back of the vehicle. The van started just as Leonardo started to convulse again. Deborah started and moved away from Raphael, trying to give the injured turtle on the floor more room.

"_No_...Donnie, i...it's happening again! What should I do?"

Michelangelo was across from them. He searched their faces before turning to look at Donatello in the front of the van. Without waiting for an answer he laid on top of his brother, trying to contain the spasms so that Leonardo didn't hurt himself more. Donatello clung to the back of his chair in the front of the van; his eyes desperate and full of fright.

"Try to keep him still. I...I'm not sure, but I th...think he needs a transfusion."

"What?" April asked, fear in her voice. "Do you have that type of equipment at the lair? Do you even know how to do something like _that_?"

"I'm not sure, I...I don't know, April. But I've got t...to try." His voice cracked. He was close to losing it. He ran his hands over his face, inadvertently smearing dried blood across his face. "He's lost a lot of blood." His voice rose, panicked.

April's heart contracted. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to reach over and pull him to her; to comfort him. A feeling so strong, she had to grip the steering wheel tightly to stay focused. There'd be time for that later. Time to consider these feelings of pride, fear and caring...but no, something stronger than that she realized with a start. She glanced sideways at him; a thrill of mixed emotions went through her, tangled up and confused. _Later_, she'd think about that later.

"Turn here," Deborah's voice ordered from the back. Everyone froze. All eyes, including April's in the rear-view mirror, looked at her. "I can get you medical equipment." At that, April turned the steering wheel roughly, causing them all to roll and bump into each other. Michelangelo clenched his eyes tightly as he and Leonardo slid into Raphael's legs. A small groan escaped Leonardo's mouth.

_"Ah! Ah! Fuck! Mmph!"_ Raphael slammed his head back from the pain. His curses dissolved into barely concealed whimpering. Tears streamed down his cheeks; his hands in shaking fists against the tops of his thighs.

"Sorry!" Michelangelo said softly as he eased off of Leonardo's trembling body.

Deborah's eyes scanned over the injured turtle and suppressed a shudder. Tyler had died helping him. That's what the red-headed girl said. There was no way she'd let that sacrifice be for nothing. Pain flared inside her chest, so bright and sharp she inhaled quickly; swallowed the horrible grief back. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She'd do this for him. Then, later, she'd do something else. But for now...focus on now. Only now.

The van pulled behind the building Deborah had pointed out. She scrambled out of the van and climbed to the top, Michelangelo followed. The sound of the sirens were growing louder; more joined in.

April glanced around. There wasn't anyone in sight. Thunder rumbled above. She shifted in her seat and watched the woman dressed in the Foot uniform with a frown as she clambered up and into a small window above them. A thrill of fear went through her as she considered it might be a trap. Then she saw the bottom of the box come through the opening, drop into Mikey's hand who quickly gave it to Donatello; then another and another; until finally she reemerged and dropped into Michelangelo's outstretched arms.

He pulled her into a crushing hug; pulled her back; then with a smile said, "Thank you."

They jumped to the ground and leapt into the van. April pulled away as Donatello sorted through the medical supplies within the boxes. He shot a relieved and grateful look at Deborah who sat once again next to Raphael. He was breathing heavy. His fear-filled eyes stared at the still form of his brother laying unconscious on the floor near his feet. Guilt gnawed at his insides. If he only had listened in the first place, none of this would have happened to them. If Leo didn't recover…_oh god, what if he_…

"He's going to be okay," Michelangelo said, as if he read Raphael's mind. His tone defensive. Raphael could only nod rapidly. His head still hurt from the fight and the drugs he'd been injected with. The movement made him nauseous. He closed his eyes and swallowed.

As they drove, police cars and ambulances passed them; the blue and red flashing lights painted the interior of the van in a surreal, blinking strobe. Michelangelo murmured over and over to Leonardo not to worry, to hold on. His large hand gently flitting from his brother's head, shoulder, arm and back again as he spoke, never resting too long in one spot. In the front seat April and Donatello spoke to each other in hushed but hurried tones as he explained what he needed to do with the equipment Deborah had gotten them. Donatello lifted a phone to the side of his face, but she couldn't hear what he was saying.

Deborah suddenly felt a hand tentatively brush the top of her fingers. She started and turned her face to look at Raphael next to her in the darkness. He quickly withdrew his hand. Lightening flashed outside the van, illuminating the interior for a brief second. Through his injuries, their eyes met; their faces only a few inches away from each other. They stared into each other in silence. The sound of rain drumming on the roof of the van and the splashing of passing cars surrounded them. Deborah blinked as a few tears escaped out of the corners of her eyes. In all the madness, the grief and terror, the panic, she found peace here; gazing into these deep green eyes. It was almost too much for her to bear.

She and Tyler had been looking for a safe place to call home for so long. Here, in these strange and wonderful eyes, she felt it. _Home_. A sad smile crept across her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him slowly, with hesitation, lift his hand towards her cheek. Before he made contact the van came to a stop. The rough motion jerking his leg; making him cringe; fists clenched against his thighs.

April and Donatello leapt out. The door opened with a bang. Donatello stood there, April rushed away, a box in her hands. The large sewer lid beyond opened, slid to one side and Deborah watched the red-head hand down the box to someone there, but she couldn't see who. She wondered how many of them were there.

"Michelangelo, help me get Leonardo out." He glanced at Deborah who turned her attention on him. He stared at her, but spoke to the occupants in general. "We could use all the help we can get."

He sounded like he was trying to win an argument with himself. He sighed and looked as if he were about to fall over. He placed one hand on the door, steadying himself.

"Nothing else matters, but to get them home."

Deborah nodded, she didn't need to hear anymore to understand he was giving her permission to accompany them. What choice did he have, really? Michelangelo positioned himself to lift Leonardo by the legs. She turned to Raphael.

"Ready for more fun?"

Raphael gave a soft snort. He grimaced at the prospect of more pain. His breath hitched as her hand slid over his to wrap it around her shoulder.

"Wait," he said, stiffening.

Deborah hesitated; stared at him, the question in her eyes. He turned his face away from hers, looking at his brothers easing Leonardo out of the van, who moaned with the movement. He swallowed, gathering courage before he spoke.

In a quiet voice he said, "Tell me your name."

He watched out from the corner of his good eye, her face in the darkness, one side illuminated from a yellow street light down the alley from where they'd parked. His heart began to beat hard as he waited for an answer. It seemed like forever before she spoke.

Deborah blinked; smiled a little broken smile, and sighed. "It's Deborah."

Raphael nodded; keeping his head lowered. He mouthed the name; breathed it out; tested it; rolled it on his tongue.

"Okay..." his green eyes raised to meet hers as he repeated her name softly, "Deborah..."

Deborah's breath caught; felt her heart trip over itself. More than anything she wanted to kiss him again, right then; to gather him in her arms and drown in his embrace. It took all her self-control not to. This was not the time for romance.

"Let's get this over with," he said watching his brothers carry Leonardo to the large manhole. "Looks like you're gonna meet my dad."

Deborah started as an image of an old-man turtle flashed before her eyes. Her attention snapped back to where the red-head had been lowering the boxes to someone. _Dad?  
_  
"O...okay..." She turned to hoist him up as he grunted and whimpered in pain.

...

**A/N:** _Oh boy_, time to meet _Daddy_! What will Splinter think of this "ally" garbed in Foot regalia?! Okay, I've been reading too much Game of Thrones, I think. Sorry this took so long to get to you, my darling readers, lol. School has begun again, new job started, someone close to me is ill and all sorts of madness in general going on at this time. But I hope you enjoyed it and will get the next chapter out to you asap! As always, please review as it supports my ego, er, ahem, I mean, my _spirit_, right? BTW, I'm having a blast reading some of your stories out there, FANTASTIC work! Keep it up!


	14. Chpt 14: Parental Instincts

**Chapter 14-Parental Instincts  
**  
April stood to one side, holding a large box in her arms as Splinter paced back and forth, his claw gripped the top of his cane tightly, while Michelangelo dropped down from the lowest rungs of the ladder, turned and reached up as Donatello lowered Leonardo's limp body down to him. Splinter paused; watching them; frozen in place at the sight of his eldest. April couldn't help but cringe as Donatello struggled to lower him as gently as possible. The blood stained rags wrapped around his wrists and ankles dripped in long red streaks along his arms and feet. He looked so vulnerable without his mask or padding and belts. He looked much younger to her. It hurt her to see Leonardo this way. She shook her head helplessly, biting her lip. Michelangelo gathered him into his arms in an awkward hug/hold around the waist. His body slumped over Michelangelo's shoulder. Leonardo moaned softly. Michelangelo staggered back a few steps as the weight of his brother's body made him stumble. Splinter gasped and came to his side, placing a steadying hand on Michelangelo's shell.

"Leonardo," Splinter said quietly, then to Michelangelo, "What has happened?"

"Sensei," Michelangelo said, shifting Leonardo a bit in his arms, "h…he's lost a lot of blood. They hurt him p…pretty bad."

He stopped speaking with a glance at his father's expression. His ears twitched and lay flattened against his head; his amber eyes wide and bright. Michelangelo had never seen Splinter look so tired. He had certainly never seen him afraid. Not of anything ever before. But looking at Splinter's eyes rove over Leonardo's pale body, it was clear that his father _was_ afraid. Michelangelo felt it coming off him in waves, making his own fear multiply inside. Michelangelo couldn't take it. He had to make this better somehow.

"B...But he's gonna be fine, though," he said with mock confidence, "Donnie knows what to do."

Donatello jumped down from the ladder with a grunt, a box in his arms that he stacked on top of the one in April's arms. Splinter put a claw on his arm. Donatello turned to him.

"Where is your brother, Raphael?" Splinter asked him, his voice laced with fear.

Donatello swallowed, wiped his chin with his shoulder and hesitated, his eyes bounced from the ladder to Splinter's face.

"Uh, he's right behind us." He glanced at April who stared back mutely.

Splinter closed his eyes in relief. The sound of swearing and mumbling surrounded them. Splinter turned to the opening, his heart lightening as he recognized the angry but familiar voice of Raphael. He was okay. _Thank God._ When he saw the condition Leonardo was in as well as the battle-weary looks on his younger sons' faces, he had a moment of panic when Raphael was not in their immediate midst. He took two steps towards the ladder expecting to greet his son only to take a large step backwards as a human woman clambered down the ladder, her back to him. And clad in the Foot Clan's uniform. Splinter bristled. _They were followed!_ With a snarl he raised his cane to strike.

"No!" April screamed.

The blond woman turned. Her face a mask of almost comical surprise as she laid her eyes on Splinter. The cane came down across Deborah's forearm as she brought it up to block the blow. She cried out in outrage and pain. She staggered to the side, slamming her back against the bricks, feet spread, knees together, cradling her arm as Raphael struggled down, using the strength of his arms and good leg to manage the ladder.

He fumbled. _Where was she?_ She was supposed to be there to ease him down. But instead, his foot reached out into open air. His shaking arms were too weak. He couldn't do this alone. He hollered as his hands slipped and he lost his grip, falling backwards off the ladder into Donatello's arms and body. He had dashed over just in time when he saw Raphael's feet coming down. Together they careened backwards nearly knocking into Splinter who still held his cane out in front of his body pointed at Deborah like a bo staff. Donatello stumbled but kept them both upright.

"Gotcha! Oof!"

"Gah! _Ugh_!" Raphael cursed, his words slurred. His vision blurred as he panted, trying to breathe through the horrible pain coursing up through his body from his leg.

Splinter neatly stepped around his sons and stood between them and the woman glaring at him in the corner against the wall.

"Keep away from them!" he said, voice low but threatening.

"You keep the fuck away from me!" She spat.

Splinter advanced on her; scowling; livid. April threw the boxes down and jumped between Deborah and Splinter.

"Wait! Please, Master Splinter, she..."

April glanced over her shoulder at Deborah as she climbed to her feet, still cradling her arm. Her eyes narrowed to slits, never taking them from Splinter, glaring at him. April frowned. What was she to them anyway? April's thought scattered trying to make sense of the situation to explain it to Splinter. This woman certainly seemed to know Raphael, and yet she wore the Foot uniform, but she _did_ help them after the building collapsed. That, at least, was a fact that April could use. She went with it.

"She's been helping us."

"We really don't have time for this, guys." Michelangelo pleaded.

Leonardo's body seized suddenly in his arms. Michelangelo cried out wordlessly. Leonardo's head jerked back; jaw clenched, breath strangled as foam gathered at the edge of his mouth.

"Leo!" Michelangelo's voice cried out in anguish. Leonardo's body jerked and trembled. "Please, hang on, bro."

Splinter raced to his side. He placed his claw on the side of Leonardo's face. He closed his eyes and Leonardo's body relaxed a little in Michelangelo's arms. They turned into the tunnel. Splinter called over his shoulder as they went.

_"Hurry!"  
_  
April scooped up the boxes; followed quickly behind them. Deborah breathed heavy; stared at Donatello who returned her gaze with unsure eyes. That didn't go as well as he had hoped.

"It's okay, Donnie," Raphael panted. "Go help L...Leo..."

His words trailed off as he lost consciousness. Donatello swayed to one side as his brother went limp. Deborah was next to him immediately. Keeping her hurt arm close to her body, she wrapped Raphael's arm over her shoulders. Donatello nodded and together they moved as quickly as they could in the direction of the lair.

A thought came to Donatello as they hurried. He should've blind-folded her or something. There just wasn't any time for secrecy. His brother's life depended on how quickly Donatello could treat him. He bit back the panic growing like some black beast in his chest. He'd need to look up what to do. He'd need to work fast. He had to save Leonardo. The thought weakened his knees suddenly. He stumbled. Deborah groaned as they lurched to the left. She countered the weight with a grunt; knees shaking with the effort and exhaustion.

"You, okay over there? Um...?" Deborah asked him, breathing heavy.

Donatello looked at her over Raphael's slumped head with wide brown eyes. He seemed afraid to say anything to her at first.

"Donatello...Donnie. Yeah, I'm okay." He was quiet for a bit. The only noise their footsteps as their feet scraped the ground.

"Uh, I might not get the chance later, but, uh, thanks. For the supplies and the...help. Y...You're a Foot soldier," he said and felt stupid as soon as the words left his mouth.

She huffed softly through her nose. They didn't say anything else. Donatello felt awkward and uneasy with every step they got closer to the lair. He had to focus on helping Leonardo first, then attend to Raphael's leg and other injuries. He didn't like the look of that eye...then, after, he'd ask her everything he needed to know.

Deborah's arm throbbed and her body shook with exhaustion. Her mind wandered as they moved on in silence. She was beginning to think the Foot Clan was not as crazy as she first believed. Tyler had bought it all so quickly. But he was always sort of gullible, she thought with a stab to her heart and tears, fresh and salty, spilled over her cheeks. She gritted her teeth and rubbed the side of her face with her shoulder, wiping off the tears and pushed on with the weight of Raphael growing heavier and heavier with each step she and Donatello took.

After what seemed like hours, they entered the turtle's home, an abandoned subway station. Donatello helped Deborah until they reached the living area, then he left to help April set up for the transfusion he would attempt to save his brother. Raphael's injuries would have to wait for now. Donatello pointed in the direction of Raphael's room then hurried away towards the sounds of activity. With aching legs and a throbbing arm that might be broken, Deborah made her way through their home. Raphael's body was too heavy and she ended up mostly dragging him. Guilt stabbed her but what else could she have done? No one else was around. She wondered vaguely where the old-man turtle was. Raphael said something about meeting his dad. He moaned and cried out as he gained consciousness.

Deborah eased him down onto the mattress on the floor of the room that belonged to him. His arms trembled and shook with the effort of laying back. Once he was settled, Deborah turned to go, only to feel his hand catch her wrist and hold it tightly, almost painfully. She looked at him over her shoulder. There was a desperate sheen in his eye. His other eye still swollen and now darkened to a deep ugly color. He didn't need to say a word. She could feel the plea coming off him_. Don't go_. She turned slowly and knelt on the floor next to him. He eased his head back and loosened his grip on her, but didn't let go completely. She placed her hand over his, feeling the bones and tendons beneath, the strange, smooth skin. He sighed deeply. And just like that he was out again.

She looked at him laying there, battered and broken, and as incredible as when she first laid her eyes on him. How could he be real? Why did the Shredder want to hurt them? She thought of the cage again, the crowd and when the Shredder entered. How she thought that would be the end of him. How she'd tensed as he stepped toward Raphael's unconscious form. Her thoughts went to Tyler and what the red-head said of his last moments. Rage flared in her stomach. She coiled her hand into a fist.

Raphael made a small sound capturing her attention. She shook her head. The anger eased back replaced with warm admiration. After everything he'd endured...he was so strong. She felt amazed by it all; by him. Gently, she pulled free of his grasp and leaned over to place a kiss on his bruised cheek. As she did, someone gave out a gasp behind her. She turned her head quickly to see the rat who attacked her before. Her hand went to her sore arm. He stood just inside the door. His robe had blood stains in it. His fur looked matted in places; his bald tail lashed the floor. In his hand was a bloody rag. Deborah suppressed a shudder.

_"Get away from my son,"_ he said in an icy voice that hissed more than it spoke.

Deborah frowned, not breaking eye contact with him. She felt his anger rolling off him. His eyes narrowed; fur bristled; a fang gleamed as he curled his lip. He seemed to be as disgusted by her as she was by him. She stood. Fury made her legs shake a little. Fury and utter exhaustion. Though she wanted to take a swing at him, pay him back for earlier, she was in no condition to fight. Her arm throbbed and her body ached from lugging Raphael through the damp sewers. Besides, the last thing she needed to do was get into a scuffle with a giant rat.

"I was just leaving."

"Go." He gave a short nod of his head to the door. "And do not return. _You are not welcome here._"

_No shit_, she thought. Deborah stepped around him through the doorway being careful not to come into any contact with the creature. She blew a breath out through her nose; glanced at her arm. It throbbed. Now what. Something struck her just then. She froze; eyes widened.

_His son? Did he just say Raphael was his son?_ Her gut coiled. A giant, unfriendly, filthy rat was their father. How was that even possible? She dropped her forehead into her hands and ran her fingers through her dirty hair. More and more surprises. She briefly wondered about what their mother could possibly be but her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a yell.

Peeking through the doorway, she watched the turtle named Donnie dash between the computer, several open books, and his brother strapped down to a table, and the other one, the one who hugged her, on the floor. Wicked looking tubes stuck out from their arms and the entire room was a mess of chords and devices. Small pools of blood had formed in some spots on the floor and table. It reminded her of a mad scientist's lab. April was there with him, following his every instruction with an almost reverent expression on her face.

She wanted to help, but decided she should probably just leave. Their rat-dad didn't seem to want her near any of them. Normally, a challenge like that invoked a stronger response from her, but between her brother's death and her exhaustion and throbbing arm; she just wasn't in the mood. With a last look around, and a lump in her throat, she slipped out of the lair and headed up the first ladder she found. Time to head back to the nut-jobs and learn what she could about the Shredder and how best to get close to him.

...

Raphael woke with a start, surrounded by Splinter, April and Donatello, who looked like he was going to pass out. The expression on his pale face was drawn, grim, and exhausted. Splinter had him pinned with a knee against his chest, his hands gripped Raphael by his shoulders, holding him fast against the mattress. April pressed the weight of her body on his good leg. Her arms wrapped around his thigh, her cheek flat against his churning stomach. Frantically he cast about for Deborah but didn't see her anywhere. His face hurt and his heart hammered as his panic rose.

Donatello nodded at Splinter who pressed him down firmly. Donatello knelt on one knee next to Raphael's broken leg; one hand one his thigh, the other cradled his calf. Raphael's leg ached so bad it turned his stomach. Every breath Donatello took shifted his leg a little causing pain to race up through his body. He gnashed his teeth against the agony.

"One...two..." Donatello counted in a weary voice.

**_"W...Wait!"_** Raphael shrieked.

_"Three!"_ Splinter's voice commanded.

Donatello grunted and pulled with all his strength; setting the bone with a sickening snap. Electric pain shot through Raphael's body. He screamed in agony. April bucked with the kick from his good leg, rising up off the mattress only to land roughly back down; the wind knocked free from her in a rush. She let go of his leg and rolled onto the hard floor. She sat up and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Raphael's head fell back as his entire body shuddered. His scream dissolved into a gasping sob. Tears streamed from his blinking eyes. He reached up with trembling hands and touched Splinter's sleeves, twisting the fabric in his grip.

"L...Leo?" He asked through gritted teeth and panting gasps, "I...Is...Is he okay?"

Donatello looked up from wrapping the split around his leg. His face was pale and dark circles showed beneath his eyes. Smudges of dried blood colored his chest and face.

"He...he's fine, Raph. For now. Mikey and Leo are recovering from the transfusion. They're in my lab." He finished the wrap, tying it tightly near his ankle. April handed him a large baggie of ice cubes that he carefully laid on top of the splint.

"Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off, okay? It should heal correctly." He tossed a small bottle of pills to Splinter who caught it in one hand. "This is all I have for the pain. What's important is that you...you've got to rest, okay?"

Donatello swayed to one side and April was there to steady him. He started at her touch and looked gratefully at her as she took his hand in hers.

"So do you, Donnie," she said softly. A shy smile crept across his face as he blushed a little. He nodded and together they left the room.

Splinter moved to one side of Raphael. He stroked the top of Raphael's head.

"It is no small miracle that you and your brother have survived your injuries. From the little I've heard from April and Donatello, you and Leonardo were nearly lost to us. To me," he added. Raphael blinked back tears. His throat grew tight.

He choked out the words. "I...I'm so sorry, Master. This was all my-"

Splinter hushed him. "Later. For now, you rest as Donatello instructed." He stood, threw a blanket over Raphael and moved to leave. A small sound from Raphael made him pause in the doorway.

"T...The woman who...who was here with me..."

Splinter turned to face him. His left ear twitched. He stood silently considering his son; clasped his hands in front of his robe waiting patiently for Raphael to finish. Raphael's mouth opened and closed. Apprehension making him struggle with the question. He felt Splinter's gaze on him like a weight.

"Where...?"

Splinter's whiskers bristled. Enough of this.

"The female is gone."

The expression on Raphael's face was almost enough to make him adjust what he was about to say, but thought better of it. The heart can set a tender trap if one wasn't careful.

"She seemed to not want anything more to do with us. As soon as you passed out she left."

"Didn't she..." his voice started strong but shrank, quiet, unbelieving, "...say anythin'?"

Splinter's stomach twisted. Raphael was too interested in this woman, this Foot soldier, for his liking. How many times in the past did he warn his sons to avoid humans, to especially steer clear of females. Here was one aspect where they were vulnerable and their innocence made them easy targets for being taken advantage of. This would not end well if he allowed it.

"No," he said roughly with a shake of his head. He paused. Raphael's shoulders visibly sagged; taking the words like a physical blow. He blinked and gently fingered the tattered edge of his blanket. Splinter's jaw set.

"She seemed relieved to be rid of this place. Of us. Of _you_."

With the lie spoken, Splinter turned and left before he could see his son's reaction. He heard the soft intake of breath behind him and knew his words made their mark. It was for the best. His instincts told him she was nothing but trouble for them. It would keep them all safe. She had no place here with them. No place with Raphael and his adolescent notions of affection. He would see to it that whatever this interest growing within his son's heart was would be quickly nipped.

…

**A/N**: So, Splinter is not a fan of Deborah's. At all. And I know I write him a bit strict, but I like him that way. And do you wonder if maybe his instant dislike of the girl could be due to something else? Possibly, Splinter suffers from his own wounds of the heart...I mentioned at the beginning of this story that I have my own take on the rivalry between Splinter and Shredder, revolving around a certain woman...more on that later. I may write it in with this story or do a one-shot to clarify, but I'm not sure as of yet. And what does Raphael make of this sudden departure? He's certainly hurt by her disappearance. And I know this was sort of light on Leonardo and what he's going through, but there's more of his situation to come. So, stay tuned, stay warm and keep those reviews comin'! :)


	15. Chpt 15: Shadows of the Mind

Just wanted to put a** warning** at the start of this chapter. The material in the unconscious mind of Leonardo would be rated **M** due to content. And I wanted to say, again, thank you for the reviews. They really keep me going. This story arc is almost complete. Every time I think I am about to wrap things up, though, I feel scenes could be better if I expand and explore them a bit. As long as _your_ happy, I'm happy, so hopefully you don't find this story dragging!

**Chapter 15 - Shadows of the Mind**

He sat next to Leonardo's bed as he had every day since he hobbled out from his room on the crutches Donatello had made him. Raphael wrung out a rag over the bowl of cool water. He leaned over awkwardly and wiped it gently across Leonardo's burning brow. His leg felt stiff and ached as he moved. He felt with the back of his knuckles. Leonardo's skin felt hot and clammy. His fever rose and fell but hadn't broken since Donatello gave him the transfusion over a week ago.

It was frightening to sit there, hour after hour, watching his brother lay motionless except for the unsteady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Frightening and uncomfortable. He shifted a little on the small stool and winced. He needed to be there when Leo opened his eyes. Guilt and regret chewed at Raphael's insides. He'd been practicing the apology he wanted to give. Ready to swallow his pride, ready to humble himself, ready to listen and obey his brother's orders, ready to do anything if it meant Leonardo would awake.

_Just wake up, bro_, he silently pleaded.

He gazed at the ceiling then dropped his head into his hand, rubbing his forehead roughly; swallowing the lump in his throat that seemed to have taken up permanent residence there. His thoughts drifted to the only other thing he thought about besides Leonardo's condition. Deborah. He sighed deeply as his chest constricted the way it had been whenever he thought of her. His heart physically hurt inside him when he thought of her.

_Why did she leave?_ He remembered what Splinter had said. _Was it true? Of course it was. _He shook his drooping head, miserable.

_But in the van, the way she looked at him. Wasn't that...real? Then again he was drugged nearly out of his gourd. He imagined it. Wishful thinking. Plain and simple._ He frowned. _ She'd had her fill of the disgusting freaks that they were, once she saw who they were, how they lived...ugh. It hurt. It hurt worse than anything he'd ever felt._

_Well_, he thought, _what did he expect? That's what he got for thinking a freak like him could ever share anything...like that...with someone_...He snorted in disgust and roughly wiped the side of his face. His hand came back moist. He growled in frustration; ashamed and angry at his weakness.

A high-pitched sound caught his attention. Raphael jumped; looked around shocked. What the hell was making that sound? His vision fell on Leonardo. His jaw was clenched; face contorted in a grimace; his breathing hard and labored through his teeth. The whine changed to a whimpering sound and Leonardo's body began to shudder. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Raphael panicked; struggled to get up, grabbing and knocking over his crutches.

"Dammit!" He twisted in the chair and yelled towards the door, "Donnie! Get in here, _NOW!_"

...

Murky darkness enfolded him. Shades of gray and purple blurred his surroundings. Shadowy shapes flowed around him. Each crouching step Leonardo took echoed around him despite doing his best to be as silent as possible. He was lost, searching for a way back to his family. In the recesses of his mind, he knew Raphael was in terrible danger and that he was somehow responsible for this. He had to find his way. He reached out with a trembling hand, searching for something to grab hold of, something to guide him.

He started as he felt a hand clasp his; long fingers curled around his thick hand, holding his fast. The flesh felt wrong and instead of feeling relief, icy fear washed through him. With his other hand, he reached for his katanas only to find empty air. His swords were gone as well as the leather sheaths that held them. He shrunk away, tugging to free his hand. His shell hit something behind him and the world tipped. He was on his back now. The hand that held his pulled it up over his head. He struggled only to find both his hands now held back tightly. His heart hammered as panic stampeded through him.

_No! No!_ _Had to stay calm! Had to get free!  
_  
A warm breeze washed over him scented with jasmine and something earthy and though he trembled still, he took in several breaths and calmed a bit. Suddenly, a rhythmic drumming began to softly beat around him. It rose through the mist around him. Fear made his body go rigid. His eyes darted about unable to see anything clearly. Only inky shadows curling within the emptiness. Shadows that writhed and circled with a chilling, light touch around his ankles, wrists, and legs. The breeze came again, warming him; drugging his mind with the heady scent. As the shadows crawled over his legs they changed into two hands connected to two, pale golden arms and then two eyes flashed out of the darkness. He gasped; his eyes bright with terror.

_No! It couldn't be!  
_  
Her gold irises with red slits for pupils glittered in the darkness. An accented voice spread through the dark like honey spilling across cool marble.

"I have found you, my…" The voice paused, a rumble of laughter poured over him, "... _brave_ little innocent. Your heart bleats to me like a lost lamb in the night. But do not fear, for I will _ever_ seek you out. My prize, you belong to me."

The Mistress' face materialized and her mouth twisted into a wicked smile as she brought her lips to his. He turned his face roughly to the side.

"_N...no!_ Get off m...me!"

He struggled hard unable to free his arms. His legs were pressed back and down by an invisible force. She smirked. He trembled and shook with fear. _This wasn't happening! It couldn't be real!_ He took in a breath to growl but it was stolen from him in a rush as she brought her mouth down the side of his neck. Her tongue lapped at his skin, feeling his racing pulse against it. He whimpered, his strength fleeing, paralyzed as the tingling pleasure of her mouth on his flesh stirred his body. The music grew around him. It pulled at his mind, eroding his defences. The familiar ache awoke within him; blooming through his stomach like a dark, poisonous flower. He struggled to keep control over his quivering body. He would not give in. He was stronger than this! His breath choked in and out.

She sat up and the warm breeze came again making her long hair ripple and flow around her shoulders. Leonardo didn't want to look at her. But even with his head turned, his eyes locked on her and stared, mesmerized, as she undid the clasps at her shoulders. Her sheer dress fell away. The silken smoothness fluttered against his side as it did. He shivered; captivated by the shape of her, powerless against her terrible beauty. She laid down against the front of him. His breath hitched and trembled in his throat.

It was too much. Control slid through his weakening grasp. He shook his head numbly and closed his eyes as her mouth found his. He kissed her back deeply, losing himself in the moment. His hands broke free suddenly and he ran them through her hair. They rolled and Leonardo was above her. Their mouths came apart in a gasp. She gazed up at him as he hesitated, panting. What was he doing? His thoughts scrambled and evaporated as he fought to regain control. His heart galloped painfully in his chest. His body ached with need. His blue eyes turned stormy with the intensity of his building desire.

Deep in his mind, a small voice cursed him for being weak. He was a leader; the eldest. He had to set the example; had to be strong and fight this! _What would Splinter think of this weakness?_ _He would be disgusted._ Shame colored Leonardo's cheeks. He had to get back...to his brothers...to Raph…he...he... He felt her hands roving down over his chest as she spoke, her voice slicing through his thoughts.

"Beneath your exterior beats the heart of a noble and true warrior…" her hands traveled lower over his fluttering stomach; lower, lower still…"the heart of man." His body jumped from the contact. He closed his eyes tightly and groaned.

"You know what you want," she purred. "Take your prize. Take it _now_."

His eyes snapped open; his tenuous grip on control slipped free as his breath caught; all coherent thoughts vanished as his strength yielded to overwhelming passion. In a rush, he pressed down onto her, into her, moaning deeply; hands coiled in her hair; face pressed against her throat. Desire mounted within him as his body shuddered. He couldn't stop. He was lost. Lust swallowed him. The rhythmic beat grew and pounded around them matching their body's tempo. His frantic heart hammered in his ears; her panting breath on his cheek.

Suddenly he was thrown back and she rode atop him. He cried out, throwing his head back. His body bucked. She raised a fist in the air and out of the thick blackness a brilliant white bolt of lightning struck it, lighting it ablaze in white flames. She brought her fist down and plunged it into his chest, splitting the thick keratin, crunching through his bones. He felt her fingers curl around his thrashing heart. He screamed as she pulled it free and held it aloft. Her body rose and fell on top of him as his body convulsed. She smiled down into his terrified eyes; brought the bloody, pulsing muscle to her mouth and bit into it; his blood coursing over her chin and throat, down her breasts. As her laughter rained down on him, mocking him, his mind succumbed to the darkness.

Donatello and Michelangelo eased Leonardo's quivering body into the bath tub filled with lukewarm water. A high pitched whine slipped from his throat as they did. Raphael stood on his crutches helpless and frightened next to Splinter in the doorway to their bathroom. Donatello used a sponge to wipe the water over his brother's head. Michelangelo glanced at Raphael and Splinter. He wrung his fingers nervously.

"Did he say anything, Raph?" he asked in a meek voice.

"No, just started shakin' and makin' that noise. Like he was hurt or...or…" Raphael's voice cracked he was almost unable to say the last word. "…scared." The questions came in a rush. " Donnie, what's wrong with him? Why won't he wake up already? It's been over a week!"

Donatello shook his head. "He's healing. But the fever spiked. This will bring it down. The blood loss and trauma he suffered took its toll." He stopped mopping his brother with the sponge. His head dropped. "He just needs time."

Splinter stepped forward as Michelangelo stepped out to give him more room. He stood just behind Raphael. He wanted to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but could feel how tense his brother was so he kept a small distance. Donatello moved as Splinter knelt next to the tub. He took the sponge from Donatello's hand and continued wringing the water over his son's head and shoulders.

"Leonardo can you hear me?" Splinter said softly.

Leonardo mewed and his head shifted to one side. Splinter cast a look at Donatello who nodded; encouraging him to go on.

"Return to us. My son, we need you here to tell us of your ordeal so we may help you heal."

Leonardo's head moved from side to side, slowly at first then quicker and quicker. The water started to slosh around him as his body shook. His jaw clenched and his head jerked.

"Ugh...Nngh...eh..uh! N...No..._No_!" Leonardo shrieked.

Splinter dropped the sponge. He placed his hands on either side of Leonardo's face.

"It is all right, my son!" He said in a quivering voice_. "Leonardo!"_

Leonardo's eyes snapped open. Splinter started. His brothers gasped and jumped and rushed to him with Raphael hobbling inside, dropping his crutch and grabbing the wall for support. Everyone shouted at once. "Leo!" Raphael and Michelangelo yelled. "...gonna be okay!" Donatello calmed him. "...you're awake!" "You're home, my son," Splinter said. "Oh, man!" "Easy!" "...you okay?" "...don't struggle!" Donatello ordered.

Leonardo blinked rapidly. He stared at each of them in turn, his eyes cloudy and far away, not seeing any of them. His head and body shook and trembled violently as he tried to understand where he was and what was happening. His mouth opened and closed without making a sound, only gasping breaths in and out. His hands slipped against the sides of the tub as he tried to gain support to rise. His heels pounded the bottom of the tub, splashing water in large waves as he tried to get his feet under him. He slid and fell back with a startled shout of fear. Donatello pushed through past Splinter and helped him up. He stood on dripping and shaking legs. He held Donatello tightly, his head down against his brother's chest and shoulder.

"Easy, Leo, don't try to move too fast. Give him some space, guys!"

_"D...Donnie! Donnie!"_ Leonardo sobbed and shook.

"It's _okay_, Leo," Michelangelo nearly shouted. "You're home. You're safe."

His father and brothers exchanged worried glances then stepped back as Donatello led a broken Leonardo out from the bathroom. Michelangelo disappeared only to return a few seconds later. He wrapped a large fluffy robe over Leonardo's shoulders that April had dropped off for him earlier. Donatello took him to his room, closing the door behind him.

Raphael looked at Splinter. "Is he gonna be okay?"

Splinter looked back at him miserably. "I hope that is the case, my son."

…

**A/N:** The guys are pretty messed up after their ordeals. Both physically and mentally. They have a lot of healing to do. And we may not have seen the last of the Mistress just yet! Does time heal all things? That may not be true for our heroes.


	16. Chpt 16: Fault Lines

Three days later, Donatello allowed Leonardo to leave the sanctuary of his room to join him and the others. Raphael, Michelangelo and Splinter sat at the kitchen table while Donatello walked in from Leonardo's room and filled a pot with water for tea. He turned to face them.

"He'll be out in a minute. Just act natural, okay? The last thing he needs right now is a volley of questions that he can't answer."

"Agreed. Though it may assist in Leonardo's healing if he were to tell us of his ordeal," Splinter said.

Donatello shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "He doesn't remember anything other than fighting the soldiers in the cell after you were taken, Raph. After that," he shrugged, "waking up here in the tub."

"Maybe he just doesn't wanna talk about it," Mikey suggested. He shivered recalling the black mattress and sheets covered in blood. His eyes were wide as he looked around at them. "He was barely alive when Donnie and I got to him. And what about that glowing alien lady on the roof...?" He paused and rubbed his hands over his biceps trying to quell the uneasy feeling he got just bringing the image to mind.

"Who knows what she did to him."

They sat in silence as the weight of his words sunk in. Raphael shook his head in disgust. Splinter closed and opened his eyes slowly. Donatello shifted his feet. Michelangelo glanced over his shoulder in the direction of Leonardo's room. Only Leonardo knew the answer.

Donatello shook his head lost in thought. He still couldn't accept what he saw that night. It wasn't possible. Then again, when he considered the existence of the Krang... They _were_ from a different dimension. That was the fact of the matter. Plain and simple. And what did the Shredder have to do with it? The only thing that _was_ clear to him was that they were dealing with things beyond even his comprehension. He only hoped it was the last they'd see of the strange female creature. A shrill whistle startled Donatello. He jumped despite himself and instantly felt foolish. The tea kettle. He switched off the stove and poured tea into the mugs.

Raphael fidgeted with his splint. His leg ached like hell this morning. Ached and itched like ants were crawling over his skin. There was a stretched-out wire coat hanger on the side of his mattress between his bed and the wall that he'd hidden from Donatello that he would've put to good use right now. But Donatello would kill him if he saw it. Something about scratching the skin and infections, _blah_, _blah_. _God, how it itched!_ He sighed in frustration and eyed Leonardo's door. He was happy Leonardo was awake, but it wasn't exactly how he'd imagined it. His chance to offer up apologies slipped away from him and with the passing days it seemed less and less likely he'd get a chance to speak with his brother alone any time soon.

Leonardo stood facing the door with growing apprehension. Hands in fists at his side. The bandages around his wrists felt uncomfortable and tight. He fought the urge to tear them off. They reminded him of being restrained. _No, don't think about that, not now._ Donatello would remove them, another few days or so he had said. Despite feeling shaky on his feet, he was determined to show his family that he was fine. He took a steadying breath; eyes closed; forcing his trembling arms to be still and his face to wear a neutral expression. He opened the door. He stepped out into the living room. Michelangelo's head whipped around. He leapt to his feet, knocking his chair back and rushed over to him.

"Leo! Bro! You're finally up! How ya feelin'? C'mon and have some tea. Take a seat." He said enthusiastically, slinging an arm around Leonardo's shoulder. Behind him Donatello smacked his forehead into his palm.

Leonardo stepped back, startled, but composed himself immediately. Head lowered, he offered the smallest of what could barely be recognized as a smile. Splinter and Raphael stared openly, with twin expressions of worry and fear. Their bodies as immobile as the brick walls around them as he approached the table. Michelangelo ran around him and pulled out the chair for him to sit. He patted the seat. Donatello glared at an oblivious Michelangelo.

"G...good morning," he said to everyone, looking at no one.

Leonardo sat and put his hands on the table, one set of fingers loosely holding on to the other. He raised his eyes briefly to Splinter before quickly letting them drop back to his fingers. Donatello set a cup of steaming tea in front of him, patting him gently on his shoulder as he stepped back, leaning on the stove.

No one spoke. Not even Michelangelo. The silence became a cloying presence. The clock from the dojo ticking away the seconds like a disapproving school teacher. _Tsk, tsk, tsk_. His heart beat loudly in his ears. He felt the weight of their eyes on him. Prodding him; questioning; demanding. Splinter's gaze especially bore into him. He felt all his shields being stripped away under his unrelenting observation. He couldn't let him through to the raw shame hidden beneath. Donatello cleared his throat. The noise like a shot gun blast cutting through the awkwardness. Leonardo focused all his concentration on reaching out and lifting the cup to his mouth without allowing his hand to shake in the slightest, betraying nothing. The warmth of the tea in his mouth strengthened him. He shifted in his seat and turned to Raphael.

"How's the leg?" he asked never quite meeting his brother's eyes.

"Itches like hell," he replied, studying Leonardo's face. He leaned forward. "Leo, what happened..." He began. Leonardo stiffened. Splinter noticed and interrupted.

"Michelangelo."

"Yeah, Sensei?"

"Some breakfast would be nice."

"I'm on it."

He jumped up and immediately dug into the refrigerator, reemerging with an armload of eggs, milk and bacon. He hummed happily. Leonardo's shoulders relaxed a bit with the homey sounds of Michelangelo banging pots and starting up the stove burners. Everything was all right. He was home. Raphael was safe.

Splinter put a claw on Raphael's arm as he opened his mouth to speak again. "I believe you have some upper body rehabilitation to see to with Donatello in the mean time."

"But...Sensei, you just said he needed to talk about what-"

Donatello caught on, cutting him off, "Right. C'mon, I've got a few new sets for you to try."

As the two of them left the kitchen for the dojo, Splinter cast him a sympathetic look as Leonardo's eyes met his. Panic crossed his face before it was quickly hidden; eyes downward, studying the chipped tea cup clenched in two fists as though he was afraid it would shatter to pieces if he released his grip. His eyes burned. _Please don't ask me. Don't ask me to tell you what happened. _Leonardo pleaded silently into his cooling tea. Splinter's chair scraped back as he stood. He kept his eyes trained on the top of Leonardo's head as he spoke to Michelangelo.

"Please alert me when breakfast is ready, my son. A nice meal is just what we need and it smells delicious."

"Sure thing, Sensei!"

Master Splinter then stepped away from the table. Before exiting the kitchen, he turned a bit to see Leonardo watching him. When their eyes met, the flash of panic came again and was extinguished just as quickly as before. Splinter leaned on his cane and nodded.

"I am greatly relieved that you are feeling well again, my son. Should you remember anything of your ordeal..."

"_N...No!"_ Leonardo answered quickly, a bit too loudly, then said in a softer voice, "I don't remember anything, Master Splinter. Just what I told Donnie."

Splinter nodded. "Of course. We are here for you, Leonardo, should you need anything."

With that he left Leonardo clutching his mug at the table and Michelangelo humming and cooking away.

...

Raphael sat on the bench, his broken leg straight out to one side of him at an awkward angle, as he pulled the twenty-five pound dumbbell towards his shoulder, counting the reps. Donatello gripped the pull up bar and started to do some chin ups. He eyed Raphael from across the room.

"So," he started. "Um..." Raphael raised his eyes to him.

"Ya got somethin' on your mind, Donnie?" He switched arms.

Donatello jumped down and picked up his practice bo staff from the wall. The familiar balance giving him courage to voice his thoughts.

"I was just wondering about something," he said casually. He watched Raphael from the corner of his eye as he twirled the staff. "More specifically about that pretty Foot soldier who helped us out and got you home."

Raphael froze mid-curl. He stared mutely at Donatello who kept spinning his bo. He lowered the dumbbell and dropped it from his hand with a thud.

"April and I were talking about her the other day. That it was really extraordinarily lucky for us to have found such an ally." He snapped his fingers. "Just like that out of thin air."

Raphael said nothing, only stared with narrowed eyes at Donatello.

"What was her name again?" He pressed.

Raphael continued to glare at his brother. "Drop it," he said, his voice rough and low.

Donatello swung the bo in an arc over his head practicing a comfortingly familiar Kata and pressed further. He knew he was walking on thin ice, but how fast could Raphael be in his condition?

"She didn't know any of us. And I'd certainly have remembered meeting someone like _that_."

A low warning growl rose from Raphael's throat. Slowly working it into his steps he moved closer and closer to where Raphael sat. He stopped abruptly in front of Raphael, slamming the bo down near Raphael's leg.

"Was she worth it, Raph?"

Raphael struck out. He swung a backhand at Donatello's bo. The force of it knocking it free from his grasp and skittering across the dojo mats. Donatello jumped back as he took another swung directed sloppily at his face. He pitched forward and grimaced, clutching his throbbing leg.

"I'm warning you, Donnie. _Leave it_," he growled.

Donatello gave a mirthless laugh. "I knew it. You were seeing her, weren't you. That's why you were acting all weird the weeks following up to this mess."

Raphael grabbed one of his crutches and whipped it at Donatello. He ducked as it sailed over his head, hit the punching bag and landed impotent on the padded mat.

"You wanna blame me, then _fine!_ Go ahead. I deserve it. You think I don't already know this was my fault? All of it? You think I'm so stupid I don't see that? What am I supposed to do, Donnie? I can't go back in time and fix this!"

Donatello nodded, crossed his arms. "No. You can't." Raphael's remorse was clear. He still didn't have a clear picture of what exactly had gone on between his brother and the woman. "And her?"

Raphael's head dropped. His hands gripped the edges of the bench. He cringed as he remembered Splinter's words. 

_'She seemed relieved to be rid of this place. Of us. Of __**you**__.'_

It hurt. _The truth hurts_, he thought bitterly. He closed his eyes.

"It's nothin'. Was never nothin'. It's done." His voice was thick with emotion.

Donatello crossed the mats and handed the crutch to Raphael. He looked up and took it from him slowly. Donatello read the pain in his brother's eyes. The heartache written plainly there. The anger dissolving. Out of the four, he wore his heart on his sleeve always. Never able to mask the feelings that rode so high and so low within him. Donatello sat next to him, knowing well and good that it was far from done for his brother. He feared what was ahead for them. For Raphael. He sighed.

"It's going to take some weeks before you can go up top again."

Raphael snorted. "I'm not in any hurry," he said, not convincing Donatello at all. He knew better. He knew that Raphael would bolt the second he got the chance. Seek her out. He'd do the same in his brother's position.

"Sure, buddy." Donatello patted his shoulder, then, "C'mon, let's go eat. I smell bacon and I'm starved."

...

Deborah sat in her room. On the edge of her bed. The wracking sobs having finally released their grip on her. She took in a deep breath and swallowed, gaining the courage to look again at what sat on her lap. The gold gleamed in the dim light; mocking her. The ribbon trailed down her leg. She lifted the medal up in one hand. Her fingers tightening around the smooth edges. She gritted her teeth and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a satisfying smack, leaving an indentation in the plaster. She growled and fell across her bed. Her hands fisted in her hair. Tearing at it.

_Oh, TJ_. She moaned. If only she had never told him. He'd still be...and she'd convince him to leave with her...like they'd planned...Another wave of sobbing washed over her, but the sobs were dry and agonized. She had run out of tears. At once she cursed the night she'd met Raphael and wished he was there, next to her, holding her, his strength comforting her. The name in her thoughts brought his face to mind. Those green eyes staring into her. Her heart tightened and ached. It hurt. Everything hurt. No thoughts were safe thoughts.

But no, this wasn't his fault. The fault lay with her. She should've gotten them out of this situation long before. She failed to keep her brother safe. A whimper escaped her mouth at the thought. There was nothing she could do now. She sniffed. With a shuddering breath she sat up; stood. She crouched and picked up Tyler's medal. Brought it up to her face. She gave it a soft kiss and tucked it into her belt.

Actually, there was something she could do. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, roughly, and exited the room; headed to the dojo. She needed to sharpen her skills, though, if she didn't plan on dying, but then again, it wouldn't matter much if she did. As long as she paid the Shredder back in full for what he'd done. If it took the rest of her life she'd find a way to run a blade across that throat. The thought made her smile a little. The first time she did in weeks.

...

Saki stood in front of the mirror, shirtless. He gazed at the ruined flesh in disgust. His Mistress' voice echoed in his mind.

_'If you do not release yourself from the trap of petty revenge, if you do not let go of your lost love, you will not rise above what you are now.'  
_  
He turned; faced the empty bedroom. Even the fireplace lay in cold ashes. She left him. She left him hollow and empty as this room. She gave him the missing pieces of so many of his plans. Helped his empire grow. More than that, she came to him as his lost love, as she put it, used her black magic to soothe him for so many nights. Healed the aching wounds of the loss he carried. A loss still as fresh and as painful as if it happened only yesterday and not so many years ago. But now she was gone. Out of his reach. Gone forever. Just like the woman who's vestige she bore at times.

_Tang Shen_. _My life, my love. _The memories rose unbidden and relentlessly indifferent to the pain they caused his bleeding heart. Her smiling face, her sparkling eyes, her arms around his neck, her laughing voice in his ear. The urgent pleas she made for him to run away with her. Before her parents discovered their forbidden romance.

The daughter of a wealthy merchant with upper class bloodlines could never be with a lowly half-blood bastard. His father an American GI, and his foolish mother a simple basket weaver who was left with nothing but her pregnant belly when her love returned to the west without a backwards glance. Saki's hesitation undid them. His desire to please her parents, the foolish idea that he could reason against centuries of tradition, that he could somehow prove his worthiness against their chosen suitor, only served to seal their doomed love to the cruel hands of fate. It was all his fault.

Her beautiful face faded, replaced with the image of her burnt flesh rose up in his mind. Would he ever be free from this torment? Saki dropped his face into his hands as he fell to his knees then forward onto the floor, forearms covering the top of his head. A wordless cry broke from him.

...

**A/N:** So, there in a nut shell is my take on the love triangle between Saki, Tang Shen and Yoshi. I still think I may expand it into a story at some point, but I had to fit it in here to help give an idea of what I was thinking. So, what do you think? Do you like this notion of mine? Am I still keeping everyone in character for the most part?

Thanks again to all you that have left reviews and/or favorited/followed this story. It means so much to me. It keeps those pesky_ "you suck. this makes no sense. you're rambling and did I mention you're a sucky writer"_ voice-floaties at bay. heehee, I'm sure you're all familiar with those spirit weakening moments of self-doubt. The story arc is almost complete. I feel like I've been saying that for a while, but trust me, I have a solid ending in mind with hopefully, some surprises still in store for you to come! :)


	17. Chpt 17: At the Brink

**CHAPTER 17 – At the Brink**

As the weeks passed some wounds mended while others festered.

The sharp cry of pain that erupted from Raphael was both so unusual and frightening that even Master Splinter ran into the dojo to see how his son was hurt. He was on the ground clutching his still weak and healing leg. Leonardo stood over him breathing heavy.

"Dammit, Leo! What the hell's the matter with you?!"

He glared up at his older brother. The pain throbbed up through his leg into his body; sharp and stomach turning. He didn't want to believe that Leonardo had meant to use his injury to win the sparring match, but Leonardo knew his leg was tender; and yet he still knocked Raphael back and down with a sweep aimed directly at his leg. _What the hell was that?_

"Leo," Donatello said, his eyes going from Master Splinter who stood taking in the situation to Leonardo who still stood over Raphael, eerily silent, "I told you three times to watch his leg in the sparring matches. If you injure it further, you could set his healing back by weeks," he chided angrily. "Or worse!"

He stood up from the mat where he'd been doing sit ups. Michelangelo watched, perched on the balancing beam in the corner. He couldn't believe that Leonardo meant to hurt Raphael. He just couldn't accept it. Crossing the dojo, Donatello put a hand on Leonardo's shoulder who shrugged it off. Donatello stepped back. The anger rolled off Leonardo in waves so thick they were nearly visible.

_"Leonardo."  
_  
Splinter's sharp tone seemed to reach him, cutting through his daze. Leonardo started, blinked and looked around. He seemed lost for where he was for a moment before quickly focusing on his downed brother. His breath caught. He reached out a hand to help Raphael who angrily smacked it away. His eyes went to the mats then back at Raphael.

_When did he lose control?_ They'd been sparring lightly, working on building Raphael's stamina...They'd been laughing, Raphael had turned and gripped Leonardo in a hold, his hands held behind his shell...and then...he struggled, but couldn't get free. He twisted and fought, but Raphael, even with his injured leg, was too strong. The panic he'd felt moments ago resurfaced. Heart suddenly hammering, palms cold and sweaty. He had to get out of here. He muttered something resembling an apology to Raphael then turned away, slamming his shoulder against Donatello's who gasped in anger; storming fast out of the dojo past Splinter without a word.

Splinter watched his son's departure with rising dread. His whiskers twitched and he stroked his beard, pondering his son's recent behavior and growing isolation from the rest of his family. He needed to talk with him. Leonardo should not have to face the demons of his mind alone. He was too young. Too inexperienced. He had to find a way to reach him.

Donatello helped Raphael up and with his aid, he hobbled over to the benches and sat heavily. Donatello knelt before Raphael and prodded his leg in various spots. Raphael sucked air through his teeth when he touched the bruise Leonardo's hit had made.

"He didn't mean it," Michelangelo said quietly as he swung down off the balancing beam. His feet sunk deep into the mats as he moved closer to Splinter and the others. "You shoulda seen the look on his face," he continued. "I think he just panicked or something."

"I don't want to hear about it, Mikey," Raphael said between clenched teeth as Donatello readjusted the tape he wrapped around Raphael's shin. "My leg is killing me because Leo had a _moment_."

Michelangelo shook his head and looked helplessly at his father. Splinter gazed back, his own worry mirrored in the eyes of his youngest son.

Inside his room, Leonardo paced. The anger he felt welled up inside. Not angry with Raphael, but himself. _How could he have done that to Raphael?_ He would never hurt his brothers. Never. He needed to get a grip on this. His stomach cramped and he sucked in his breath, placing a hand across his middle. _Ugh._ The pain was sharp and intense. He sat shakily on the edge of his bed, dropped his face into his palms. In and out, he breathed deeply until the pain eased up and vanished_. Must be stress_, he thought. He swallowed dryly and wished he had something to drink. Wished he could just lay back and go to sleep and forget about everything. _Sleep_, he thought bitterly. He sighed in disgust.

When he actually did sleep, his dreams were twisted nightmares. The golden demon-woman dominated his nocturnal visions. Night after night, it was the same. He was lost in the darkness, until she found him. Unable to resist her, wanting to, but failing to fight against the spell she cast over him, cursing his own frailty. She'd bring him to the brink of unimaginable pleasure only for the dream to end by her ripping into his flesh in a grisly manner while she laughed at him. He woke struggling, drenched in sweat, his blankets sticky and coiled around his legs like a snake morning after morning. These restless nights and nightmares were taking their toll on him. He groaned.

_When would this torment end?  
_  
A soft knocking came at his door and Splinter entered before he could say anything. His face shot up. The unshed tears showed brightly in his eyes. His mouth opened but no words came. He wanted to be left alone and yet needed his Sensei more than he ever had before. Splinter seemed to sense this within him.

"My son," Splinter said quietly.

He moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed with Leonardo. He placed a hand on his shell. Leonardo rubbed his eyes hard, then avoided looking at his father. His heart a confused mess, words jumbled and tangled in his mind, lodging in his throat, unable to break free. His father's silence pressed on him. The weight too much for him to bear.

More than anything he wanted to unburden himself to Splinter. But what if the shame he brought to their family was too great for Master Splinter to bear? He'd never look at him the same. Not if he knew what had been done to him; what he had done with that demon-woman. Leonardo could imagine the look of horror and disappointment on Splinter's face. The shame. _No, he wouldn't be able to take that! He'd rather die than see it._ He stood suddenly, pulling away from Splinter's touch.

"I...I'm going out, Sensei."

He fled before Splinter could speak a word of permission or deny him his freedom.

...

The snow fell heavy and wet as Leonardo jumped the roof top down to the fire escape outside April's window. His feet slid on the ice covered grate as he came to land with a quiet poompf sound. He stood, reached over and gently but urgently tapped at the window until he saw her shadowy form emerge behind the curtains. She peered out, a look of confusion swiftly replaced by shock at seeing who it was. With hurried fingers she unlatched the lock and pushed open the window.

"Leo!"

The wind wiped an icy lash against her torso and face. Leonardo crouched shivering and miserable on the fire escape. He stared at her with haunted eyes, searching her face.

"Oh gosh, come in, come in before you freeze!"

He hesitated a moment, debating whether or not this was a wise decision after all. His muscles tensed, waiting for the command from his mind to bolt. Another blast of wind hit him and he scurried inside. He could change his mind in a minute, but first he really needed to get out of the frigid air and warm up.

He stood awkwardly in the middle of her room, teeth chattering, not sure what to do or how to start. The feeling that this was a huge mistake pulled at him like quicksand sucking him down into her plush rug below his slush covered feet. She slipped out of her room, holding up a finger for him to wait as she did. He glanced over his shoulder, if he was leaving now was the time. His hands were at his side, his fingers fidgeted. April returned with a towel and an extra fleece blanket. He took the towel and sat numbly on the edge of her bed. She placed the blanket over his shoulders as he rubbed the snow and water from his feet.

"My aunt's asleep, so just keep quiet and we'll be fine."

She felt a little silly telling Leonardo of all the turtles to keep quiet. He was by far the most stealthy of the group. Sometimes he was so still and silent she forgot he was standing next to her.

"Thanks, April," he murmured.

April sat on her small computer chair and rolled it until she was facing him. She folded her hands on top of her lap and studied Leonardo's face. He set the towel down on the floor and proceeded to look everywhere but at her. She wanted to ask, but bit back the words, giving him some space to work up the courage and find his voice. Finally, his eyes met hers. She'd never seen such a look of fear in this turtle's eyes before. He opened his mouth and she noticed his lip tremble a little. Her heart cringed for him in his distress. She inclined her head a bit, hoping to encourage him to speak.

"I need to...to talk to someone," he started. "About what happened to me...on the roof."

He stopped and swallowed, gazing at April, lost for words hoping to find some guidance as to how to proceed. She reached out her hand and took his, cradling it, placing her other hand on top.

"You can trust me, Leo. Tell me what happened that night."

And he did. Starting with his fight with Raphael on the roof. Going on about how he failed to lead his brother correctly. The guilt he felt at hurting Raphael when he was already down. How he was weak in not setting the better example as Splinter demanded of him. Then he began to tell her of the cell and how they were tormented, never quite going into details, but giving her enough information to paint her a picture of the terror and helplessness he faced. When he got to the part where he woke on the roof he came to a stuttering halt. His breathing grew heavy and his face wore a mask of anguish. His chin fell to his chest. He shook his head at a loss. April stood.

"L…Let's take a moment, okay? Let me get you some water."

Mutely, he nodded. As she left the room he dropped his head into his trembling hands. He couldn't do this. But he had to. This was eating him alive from the inside out. April returned and handed him the glass. She noticed how it shook as he brought it to his mouth and drank it down. She took the glass from him, set it next to her computer and moved to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. He glanced sideways at her, a worried look on his face.

"It's okay, Leo. No matter what you tell me, I promise I won't judge you, or look at you any differently from before."

He closed his eyes and nodded. He rubbed his hands together, then clasped them tightly and leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs, as he started to tell her what exactly happened on the roof. He stared fixedly at the floor as he did. A blush grew from the base of his cheeks to his eyes, deepening in color as he stumbled and stuttered through the tale of his seduction. A tear streamed out from the corner of his eye and his body trembled so hard, April wrapped her arm around his shell, clutched his shoulders through the blanket, supporting him as he finished the terrible story.

April felt sick to her stomach. And an overwhelming yearning to protect the one who stood as protector of the family came over her. How could this have happened to someone so strong, so good?

He turned his face towards her suddenly and buried it in her chest and shoulder. He gasped in pain and his body shuddered as a heart-breaking sob broke free from his chest. His arms wrapped around her middle and he crushed her to him as the blanket slipped off his shoulders. His legs slid off the the edge of the bed and he knelt between her legs lost in his grief and pain. She felt his tears soak through the thin fabric of her pajama shirt. April threw her arms over him, tears spilled from her eyes as she made comforting soft, wordless, noises.

After some minutes, the storm of pain eased and the shuddering dissolved into trembling as he raised up his tear-stained face to look at her. Their faces were only a inch or so away. Leonardo's eyes searched April's. He felt so grateful to her. His burden much lighter now.

His fists uncurled and his palms laid against the rumpled back of her shirt. He could feel her skin, cool against his rough hands. The heady scent of her floral shampoo washed over him. His heart began to pound furiously. A sudden and fierce flash of desire swept through him. He leaned closer to her face, eyes closing. He heard the small intake of her breath and felt her stiffen and pull away from him with a small jerk. His eyes shot open, widened. _No, this wasn't right. What was he doing? He didn't want this. What was happening to him? _He released her immediately, fell back onto his heels, mouth agape, shaking his head. Confusion and fear wrestled in his mind.

"I...I'm...I'm s...sorry. I...didn't want...er..._m...mean to...to_..." He stuttered; the words tripping and stumbling from his mouth.

April stared in disbelief and shock at him. Her emotions and thoughts whirling. The look on her face crushed his heart. He couldn't stand it. In a flurry of motion, he scrambled to his feet, dashed to the window with a wordless cry, and fled out into the snowstorm; fighting against his own storm of despair and terror in his heart; deaf to April calling out to him from the retreating window.

...

Tears blinded him as he raced through the alleyways. The chilling wind biting at his skin, numbing his face and fists. His feet thumping through the deepening snow. His heart thrumming madly inside. His breath strained and burned in his lungs. His mind was a jumble of words and images. April's face, after he tried to…to…_What was happening to him? April would never forgive him. Donnie would never forgive him! He never intended…he didn't even feel that way towards her. She was always more of an older sister to him. _He stumbled over some hidden obstacle in the snow and slid sprawling in to someone's legs. He blinked back the icy snow from his eyes and looked up. Straight to the masked face of a foot soldier!

"What've we got here?" The man asked and dropped the container in his arms to one side.

In a swift motion, he pulled a ninja-ken from his belt. The blade gleamed wickedly in the yellow haze of the street lamplight. Two more soldiers appeared next to him out from the shadows. Their chuckling voices drifted down to Leonardo still half-buried up to his snout in snow. Leonardo's eyes narrowed and went white with rage.

…

It seemed that he blinked and it was over. He stood, breath expanding in cloudy puffs in front of him, muscles trembling from exhaustion, in a field of crimson stained snow. His arms and legs were covered in blood. His chest spattered in gore. His katanas dripped long tendrils of the viscous fluid. The soldiers' bodies lay in an arc of mangled parts all around him. Some missing limbs, one missing his head. Leonardo swayed, his feet stumbled to one side and he fell against the bricks, knocking the garbage cans to one side as he did. He slid down, sheathed his katanas and wiped the side of his neck. His hand came away slick with blood, but who's blood it was, he didn't know.

Suddenly, the cramping pain from before seized him. He grabbed his stomach and bent over, wincing and clenching his jaw. Sweat broke out over his body as he was wracked with shuddering spasms. He pitched forward. His blood soaked hands plunged into the deep snow in front of him, reaching for something to hold on to. His fingers wrapped around something, clutching it tightly. No, not something, _someone_. Someone's ankle.

Through the pain, he opened one eye and squinted. He could just make out through the swirling snow, the blurred image of another foot soldier standing over him. Her blond hair loose and billowing in the freezing wind. A spike of fear went through him. The pain brought his knees to his chest and he whimpered as he felt her hands go to his shoulders.

"You're one of his brothers!" A woman's voice murmured excitedly in his ear.

Another bout of cramps attacked him. A high-pitched whine escaped his throat. A sound he'd be ashamed of if he wasn't preoccupied with mind-numbing pain at the moment. He shuddered violently and slumped forward, face-first into the snow at her feet, unconscious.

"Terrific," Deborah said to herself. She pulled his arm over her head and grunted and swore, wondering how many times would she be expected to lug an unconscious turtle-man home through the sewers.

...

**A/N:** Well, I didn't originally intend for Deborah to make an appearance in this chapter, but it seems that she's made her way in. What a bully! :D

What did you think of the scene between April and Leo? It isn't his fault, he's all messed up emotionally and has a lot to deal with besides the anger, shame, fear, and confusion. I like to put my characters through the wringer, don't I? :D

I wasn't crazy about this chapter title, though. It fits, ohhhhkay, but I really like more interesting titles for chapters. Something that relates to the content below. Any suggestions for the above chapter that you think would fit better? I'd love to hear your ideas. :)


	18. Chpt 18: Reunions

**Chapter 18 – Reunions**

The alarms blared as Donatello rolled out of bed, jumped to his feet he ran to the monitor and punched a few keys, bringing up the lair's perimeter cameras. He gasped, turned, and dashed from his room. Michelangelo stood in the doorway of his room, blinking madly, looking confused. Raphael stumbled out from his room, cursing as he gripped the door's frame for support.

"Donnie, what the hell's going on?" he yelled over the blaring noise.

"Hang on!" Donatello opened the small box in the wall and the lair fell quiet again. He turned to his brothers and father who just joined them, wearing his robe from earlier. "It's okay, it's just..."

He was cut off by someone racing into the lair. All heads turned as April pulled the hood from her head and kicked off her snow-covered boots.

"April!?" They cried almost in unison.

"April," Donatello finished his sentence.

She looked at them, scanning around, before she asked, "Where's Leo? Is he okay? Did he get home?"

The brothers exchanged glances. Splinter spoke, moving towards her.

"Slow down, April," he turned to Michelangelo, "please, some tea, I think."

Donatello moved to stand near April as she sat down, running a hand through her mussed hair. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he noticed she was in her pajamas. He glanced at the clock in their kitchen. Just past midnight. He gulped.

"What are you doing going out in the middle if the night by yourself? It's dangerous out there at this time of night!"

April ignored him, only reached up and gave his hand on her shoulder a squeeze. A thrill went through him, only distracting him for a moment before he focused again.

"You were asking about Leonardo. I take it he visited you tonight?" Splinter asked calmly.

He was worried when Leonardo had left so suddenly earlier. It made him happy to think that he had a friend like April to turn to. He'd been meditating, waiting with one eye on the clock in his room for the sound of his son to return when the alarms had gone off.

Shakily, she nodded. Michelangelo set the steaming cup in front of her and another in front of Splinter. He sat down next to her. All their eyes seemed much bigger, brighter, more expressive, without their masks on, she wasn't used to the sight.

"Yeah, yes, Sensei. He came to me earlier this evening. H...He was...we talked," she glanced around as Raphael, on his crutches, entered the kitchen. "...about what happened to him."

Everyone in the room suddenly stilled. She could hear the dripping faucet of their kitchen sink pattering like a drum in her ears. Their eyes bore into her. She sipped the scalding tea, burning the top of her tongue, but the pain helped her somehow. It steeled her nerves. She swallowed, deciding how much she'd say.

Leonardo confided in her. The memory of his words, his haunted eyes, his tears, and when he tried to...she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. That part wasn't important. His emotions were all tangled up. Something terrible had been done to him. As she made her way to the lair, she thought about what he'd said, and a terrible thought came to her mind. Leonardo had never even kissed a girl before that, she was sure. Her heart constricted and she dropped her head, fighting back the threatening tears. She felt Donatello gently give her shoulder a squeeze. She looked up. But she had to tell his family some of what happened. She was too worried about him and the state he was in when he left her Aunt's apartment.

"H...He sort of had a break down in my room."

Splinter closed his eyes slowly as if in great pain. She heard Donatello's small intake of breath. Michelangelo's expressive eyes filled with tears.

_"What?!"_ Raphael asked harshly, hardly believing what April had said, not wanting to believe it. Leo had been going through a lot lately, but a break down? _What the hell did that even mean?_

"Well, where is he now?" He demanded angrily, fear rising in his chest.

"I...I don't know. After he told me what happened to him...uh...he...h...he, um, left my room sort of...abruptly." She cleared her throat. Her face colored and she quickly sipped more of the tea. "Something t...terrible happened to him on that roof. And h...he's trying his best to come to terms with it. He was really upset when he left, though."

Four confused and fear-filled faces stared at her.

...

Deborah's boots slid through the gore splattered snow, dragging Leonardo along. She swallowed back the bile rising in her throat and decided whatever it was her foot just kicked into she didn't want to know. She never, _ever_ wanted to know what that was. It was small and round like a soccer ball. _Yes, a soccer ball_, she decided and her war against vomiting was suddenly decided in favor of her stomach. She dropped Leonardo in a heap and bent over to one side and added her stomach's contents to the mess already covering the snow around them in the alleyway. She braced her hands on her thighs as the spasms eased. Her breath puffed out in a foggy cloud; a chilling breeze made her shiver, but it helped her gather herself. She turned back to the turtle on the ground.

_Poor guy_, she thought. With a brief glance at her surroundings, she gulped. Okay, so he was dangerous, they were all dangerous, she reached down her side and fingered the hilt of Raphael's sai tucked into her belt. But right now he needed her help. She was sure he wouldn't hurt her. One more quick glance around at the gore as she bent, mostly sure.

As she crouched down next to him a ringing caught her attention. Quickly, she searched his body. She felt around him, her hands getting covered in blood as she did. In his belt she felt a round shape and pulled free a cell phone. She held it up in her sticky fingers and stared at it in a stupor for a second before fumbling it open. She brought it up to the side of her face.

"Leo!" the voice said in her ear, then to someone else, "he picked up! Leo, where are you? Are you okay?"

"Well, he could be better."

Donatello brought the phone away from his ear with a jerk. He glanced around for a moment, stunned, and said, "it's a woman."

Splinter started.

Michelangelo blurted, "Maybe it's April!" Then was quickly smacked upside his head by Raphael.

"She's sitting right next you, bonehead."

Michelangelo looked around sheepishly, "I'm still half asleep."

"Hello?" The woman's voice asked on the line.

"Who are you, what are you doing with, uh, my brother's phone?"

Deborah cradled the phone between her jaw and shoulder as she helped a groaning Leonardo as he pushed up onto his hands and knees.

"Look, I've got my hands full here, uh easy big guy, no...no...not so fast...you're goin' to...just..."

There was a strange noise and then Donatello heard her sigh.

"Okay, I could use some help. He just threw up all over my legs. And if we don't get out of here soon the cavalry's gonna come and they're not gonna to treat your brother as nicely as I am."

"Okay, try to get him somewhere out of sight, we'll be there as soon as we can."

Donatello mentally noted their whereabouts as Deborah explained their location. He hung up. He stared at Raphael with a strange look on his face. Raphael shifted uncomfortably.

"What? Well, what did she say?" His anger started to rise. "Don't just stand there staring at me, Donnie. Where is he, who was that?!"

"He's okay. He's with a friend. I...I think it...was," he swallowed, "Deborah."

Raphael stumbled forward into the back of a chair, dropping one of his crutches. His eyes widened and his face paled. His hand gripped the back until his knuckles were white. He swallowed and blinked a couple of times while everyone stared at him and exchanged quick glances. Splinter's face darkened into a scowl.

"Bring Leonardo home, now," he told Donatello.

Raphael's head snapped up. "I'm comin', too." He scrambled away from the table.

"No." Splinter's voice was loud and the tone final.

Raphael faced his father. April saw the look of sheer desperation in his face. Her heart broke for him. He really felt something for that woman. She and Donatello spoke of it one night when he came over to fix her computer. They had spent the hours talking about many things, Raphael's relationship with Deborah was one of them. Both of them had plenty of questions: how did they meet, what was the nature of the relationship, and most importantly, how would something like that work out? But they had left the night more full of wonderings and unfortunately, no answers.

"Splinter..." his tone pleaded. "I have to...I need to...to talk with..."

"You will stay here."

"No." His voice cracked. "I'm goin'...I have to see her..." He glanced at Michelangelo and April and then at the floor. "I'm goin'," he repeated.

Splinter rose from his chair, slamming his fist onto the table, making Michelangelo jump and April cringe. She had never seen him so angered.

_"No! I forbid it!_ Do you understand me, _Raphael_? You will not defy me. Go to your room."

His amber eyes were on fire as he stared at Raphael. Raphael fidgeted where he stood. If his leg wasn't broken he'd have been out of the lair already. He'd be running; sprinting. His heart sank. Then his head dropped.

"Hai, Sensei," he muttered.

Donatello and April stared at each other for a moment and only Michelangelo seemed to catch the strange, silent exchange they had. Donatello turned and clapped Raphael on his shoulder.

"I'll be back in a few. April, just stay here, okay? I'll walk you home later."

April nodded while Michelangelo looked from his brother's retreating shell back to the girl sitting next to him, her eyes on Donatello as well. Slowly, something began to become clear in his mind. His eyes widened a little, a small smile played at the corners of his mouth, but he kept it firmly shut.

...

After Leonardo spilled the contents of his stomach all over the woman next to him, he felt a little better. His head swam, but the cramping pain had eased up. The nausea passed. He glanced around. They were still in the alley with the remains of the soldiers who crossed him earlier. He felt a small twinge of regret, but that passed as well. He glared up at the woman crouched next to him.

"Who are you?" He panted out each word and wiped the spittle from his lip and chin.

"Let's talk as we move, okay. This place is going to be crawling with Foot in a few minutes. You've been hurt. Can you stand?"

Leonardo nodded and pushed away her outstretched hands. Unsteadily he rose to his feet. The wind picked up and swirled the snow around them. He shivered, stumbled, and she braced her body against his, propping him up.

"Well, that's a start, better than me having to drag you home."

_Home?_ He looked up at her then, "No," he said simply. "I...I'm fine." There was no way he'd let her into the lair. His eyes roved over her body, taking in the uniform and he stiffened. _No way in hell_, he thought angrily.

"You're a Foot soldier."

He pulled away and staggered back some steps. He reached for his swords, feet moving into a fighting stance, but his knees wobbled and Deborah lunged to catch him. He struggled weakly in her arms. Anger and frustration flared in his chest. Why was he so weak?

"Yeah, that's right and you're the turtle-man that nearly got killed while I was helping your brother escape from Shredder - I think you missed that part. That and the fact that my b..."

Her voice caught, she took a moment, then huffed her breath and continued, "My brother died saving you." She finished in a small voice. He stared into her eyes, searching them. The pain flashed there briefly before she covered it up. Something Leonardo could relate to.

"So, you can trust me, okay? Besides, I know your brother, Raphael," she smiled a half-smile, "sort of."

Together they descended into the storm sewer. The frosted air turned damp and bone chilling as they made their way through the dripping tunnels. Their feet sloshed through the semi-frozen greasy water. Their breath came in pants and grunts. The sound echoed along with the splashing of their footsteps. Deborah had her arm around his shell, and his right arm over her shoulder. The side of her body was pressed up against his. Leonardo leaned heavily on her despite wanting to walk unassisted. He felt the soft brush of her hair along the skin of his arm and found it distracting. His legs felt weak and the pain from earlier kept rising up like a stalking shadow that threatened to overtake him at any moment. Suddenly, he doubled up in pain.

_"Ungh!"_ He cried out between clenched teeth.

Together the fell alongside the bricks. Deborah's hands searched for his wounds, trying to make out how badly he was hurt. There was nothing too deep, mostly small cuts and bruises. She felt over his shoulders, the sides of his neck, his chest, her probing touch making him more and more uncomfortable beneath the pain. His stomach fluttered. His muscles tensed. Feebly he pushed her away.

"I'm...fine...I'm..._ugh!_"

His eyes squeezed closed as he pitched forward. She caught him in her arms, stumbling backwards, his head against her chest. His limbs trembled. Her scent mixed with the smell of blood and violence that coated his body. It filled his senses, overwhelming them. A tremor of desire and pain rushed through his body. Her softness beneath the uniform pressed against his cheek. It teased him as she breathed in and out. He shuddered as scenes from his nightmares suddenly crowded into his mind's eye. Limbs entwined, sweat soaked bodies, panting gasps and moans, her voice in his ear whispering to him, her hands touching him...

_"No!"_ he screamed.

Leonardo pushed away from Deborah. The force if it knocked her back onto her bottom into a pool of frigid liquid. Their eyes met and Deborah gasped in shock. His eyes had changed. They _were_ blue, blue like a summer evening after the sun had just set, but now they flashed a bright, liquid, gold.

Footsteps fast approached and Deborah tensed. She jumped up and scrambled over to stand protectively in front of Leonardo. She didn't know what was happening to him, but he was in no condition to fight. She pulled Raphael's sai from her belt and gripped the handle tightly. The weight of it in her hand was comforting. It reminded her of him, of his bravery and strength. She'd admit it to no one, but she slept with one hand curled around it every night.

Around the bend, running with his bo in his hands was the purple-masked turtle. She remembered him, _Donatello_, she thought. He stopped short and his gaze fell on the blood-covered turtle at her feet. She jumped as she felt him wrap his hand around her calf, his other hand slid up the outside her thigh.

"Leo!" Donatello called sounding shocked and a little scared.

She twisted and looked down at him, one eye-brow raised. The gold of his eyes flashed up at her. She knew that hungry look all too well.

"Something tells me you're not usually this friendly." She side-stepped, pulling out of his reach and said to Donatello, "You want to get him, please?"

Donatello rushed to his side as Leonardo groaned and fell forward onto his hands and knees.

"Leo, Leo! Can you hear me, buddy? Where are you hurt?"

Leonardo shook his head like he was trying to clear it. He moaned and it broke into a high pitched whine. Quickly he stooped and threw Leonardo's left arm over his shoulder and looked up at Deborah with wide chocolate-colored eyes. She smiled at him as she came forward and did the same with Leonardo's right arm.

"Deja-vu," she said.

Donatello gave her a shy, nervous smile.

...

Raphael was in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed, twirling a sai in one hand. The soft noise that it made soothed him. His mind churned and struggled between a yearning to go out and see her but also not wanting to make a fool of himself. He knew that Splinter was just trying to save him from disgrace. But the thought of seeing her again dogged at his mind. If he could just talk to her. But what would he say?_ Did you leave because you finally saw that we're a bunch of freaks living in a sewer or was it because you'd finished your good deed and had enough? __Maybe after getting a good long look at us she decided she wanted a normal life._ _Ugh.  
_  
He wiped a hand over his face roughly. What was he even thinking about? There was no decision for her to make_. _There was no way she'd ever consider..._what? Dating him?_ The thought was so twisted up with his desire for it and his self-loathing, he choked out a pain filled laugh. The sound was bitter and hollow in his room.

"God, I'm such a fuckin' _idiot_."

He threw his sai hard across his room. It lodged firmly in the wall next to his door just as Michelangelo stepped through it. He flinched and looked from the weapon to his brother.

"Next time, I guess I'll knock first."

Raphael raised his head from his hands and mumbled an apology.

"Raph, they're back," Michelangelo said, his thumb motioning to the living room.

"What? Is Leo okay?" Raphael grabbed at his crutches and awkwardly came to stand up. Michelangelo shifted his feet, still standing in the doorway, blocking it. "Well?"

"Yeah, I think so, but bro, he was like, covered in blood. Muttering and...and making that s...sound, remember? That whining noise he made when he was...right after he was..." He trailed off and rubbed his arm.

"What?!" Raphael crossed the small space between his bed and where Michelangelo stood. Michelangelo put up his hands defensively.

"And Splinter wants you to stay in your room."

Raphael's brow dropped into a frown. "What?!" He was getting tired of repeating himself. With a deep growl, he lurched over and pushed Michelangelo to one side. "Get out of my way."

Michelangelo grabbed at his arms and crutches as he fought and fumbled his way out of his room and away from Michelangelo's failed attempts to block him. He made his way quickly through the doorway, ignoring Michelangelo's protests from behind. His eyes scanned the living room as he moved forward. April stood in the entrance to the kitchen, a look of distress on her face. Raphael blinked and focused on Splinter's back near the entrance to the lair. He was standing in front of someone. Raphael moved to get a better look.

His breath caught in a loud gasp. Splinter turned. Behind him, Deborah stood scowling, hands on her hips. Her eyes shot up and met his. Instantly the scowl vanished and a smile spread across her face. His heart began to race as he looked at her. His mouth hung open and a strange wordless sound rose from his chest and broke from his throat. A blur of emotions washed through him. But one stood out above the others, bright and clear as a song in his heart. Joy.

He swung his body forward as she dashed around Splinter and ran up to him, only hesitating as she came to stop just a foot away from him. She searched his face, still with that beautiful smile beaming at him. Still no words came from his open mouth. He could barely breathe; could only take in the sight of her before him.

Then she rushed forward, embracing him tightly around his neck, nuzzling her face hard against the side of his face and neck, causing him to drop both of his crutches. His arms went around her, crushing her to him.

...


	19. Chpt 19: Intent on Destruction

**Chapter 19 – Intent on Destruction**

Raphael didn't know what she was doing coming back to the lair, running to him like some corny movie and now holding him so tight, nearly choking him, but he didn't care. He didn't want to know. His hands crushed the back of her uniform in his fists. He nuzzled against her face and neck and started to tremble. He knew he should let her go, but he was afraid if he did, he'd wake up and she'd be gone. He just couldn't bring himself to risk it. So, he held on to her for dear life. Her body pressed tightly against him, her soft hair mussed against his cheek, her scent - even above the blood and vomit on her legs - he breathed in the scent of her hair and skin; feeling like every breath without it was like drowning.

_"Deborah, Deborah,"_ he repeated her name with each exhale, unable to coherently form any other word. If he said only her name for the rest of his life he'd be content.

Splinter bristled with fury at the scene before him. He'd been in the middle of sending the insolent woman away before she caught sight of Raphael emerging from his room. _How_ _easily_ _his_ _son_ _was_ _manipulated!_ It made him sick that his son was being so weak and ignorant. Obviously, the woman had a hand in harming Leonardo. He would not fall for her clever deception of aiding his son. It was a ploy to find her way back to their home. Of this, there was no doubt in his mind.

Michelangelo stepped out of Raphael's room and came to an abrupt halt when he spotted the couple hugging a few feet in front of him. His eyebrows shot up and his mouth hung open in disbelief that was quickly replaced with an awed smile. _The woman from before…wow, she really likes Raph. It's a miracle!_ he thought. He rubbed the back of his head and glanced towards April. His thoughts wandering to her and Donatello. But his smile dropped when he noticed her watching Splinter with an expression of dread. _Uh-oh_, he thought. Splinter looked like he was about to explode.

April bit her lip as her head darted back and forth from Raphael and Deborah back to Splinter. She wanted to stop what was about to be a nasty scene, but her feet were glued to the floor and her words were stuck in her throat. She watched helplessly as Splinter marched over to where Raphael and Deborah were still locked in their passionate embrace lost to all that was happening around them. He carried his cane in a white knuckled furry fist. _They_ _deserve_ _to_ _be_ _happy_, she thought desperately. Before he could reach them, she found her voice.

"Splinter, wait! It's okay!"

His head snapped around to her as he paused half-way through the living room. His amber eyes blazed. April felt herself shrink under their glare.

"This is not your concern. Assist Donatello with Leonardo's injuries, April." His voice was cold and sounded foreign and strange to her ears.

She found she did not possess the courage to argue with him or try to impress upon him why Raphael and Deborah should be allowed to love each other. Donatello's face appeared in her mind. Her stomach sank with the implications. Her eyes burned. Yes, she'd help Donatello. She needed to see him more than anything at that moment.

She turned and went obediently to the bathroom where Donatello was attending to Leonardo. His head whipped around at the sound of her approaching and his frown softened and vanished when he saw who entered the room. Leonardo lay in the bath tub; eyes closed; chin rested on his chest; moaning and protesting weakly against every touch from his brother. The water in the tub was tinted pink. Donatello's hands were coated in blood. April placed a hand on his shoulder and something about her countenance made him pause. He stared up at her, his brown eyes full of questions. She smiled softly with a small shake of her head and knelt next to him.

"How's he doing?"

"He's covered in blood, but mostly, it isn't his, I don't think," he said, turning back to Leonardo. "A few cuts, nothing major. I need to clean him up before I can do any stitching."

She took a sponge in her hand and wrung out the cool water. She gently lifted Leonardo's left arm to help wipe away the dried blood. She gasped.

"Donnie, his wrists, did he reopen those wounds from before?"

…

It was Deborah that finally eased out of Raphael's embrace. Reluctantly, Raphael released her. He balanced on his good leg and the toes of his broken one. She pulled back a little.

"Hi," she said. "I think I remember you. Green guy, likes to pick fights on roof tops?"

Raphael huffed but couldn't help but smile. _God, she's beautiful_, was all he could think.

Splinter suddenly came between them. He pushed a crutch roughly against Raphael's middle, making him stumble back and gasp. He nearly fell, but quickly used the crutch to brace himself. He felt Michelangelo's hands steady his shell behind him. Splinter's back was to him.

"As I was saying, you are to leave immediately."

"Splinter…" Raphael started.

"I just wanted to say hello," she said, her eyes flashing. Their rat-dad was getting on her last nerve.

"Michelangelo, escort her out of our home."

This was too much. Her hands rolled into fists. Splinter's lip curled in a snarl. His grip tightened around his cane.

"Let me remind you, that I just spent the last two hours lugging your son home."

"After you attacked him."

Deborah looked incredulous. "Are you kidding me? Trust me, if I attacked him, I wouldn't be standing here right now. You didn't see what he did to the rest of the group."

Splinter's eyes flashed in triumph. "So, you admit you were with the soldiers who attacked Leonardo!"

Deborah's eyes widened. She gulped.

"What?" Raphael asked.

"I…I can explain," Deborah started to say weakly. Her hands went up defensively as she realized how bad this all looked.

He didn't want to believe it, but the proof was standing in front of him in the uniform she still wore. His stomach curdled and rolled. What was she doing still working with the Foot when the Shredder killed her brother? Nearly killed him for entertainment and had his brother mangled and tortured?

"Deborah, what's goin' on?" he croaked.

The phone in her belt started to ring. Everyone in the room froze. After several seconds of the insistent chirping, Deborah reached down and touched the top of her cell phone. Raphael's face paled. He felt sick.

"Do not answer that," Splinter ordered.

She pulled it free and Splinter's cane shot out and knocked it from her hand.

"Michelangelo!" Splinter yelled.

Michelangelo tackled Deborah. She went down beneath him in a grunt. She didn't fight back as he held her down. She stared into his wide blue eyes and saw they were filled with fright, hurt and confusion.

"How could you…" he whispered. "Raph…he…he loves…"

"I have to go," Deborah said in a strained voice, cutting him off. "I have to go, _now_!"

She scrambled from beneath his stunned form and raced out of the lair. Raphael moved to go after her.

"No! Raphael, she has betrayed our trust! Let her go!"

Raphael glanced over his shoulder. He closed his eyes and took a breath, then moved as fast as he could after her. Splinter smashed the cell phone with the end of his cane.

"Go after your foolish brother, Michelangelo!"

"Hai, Sensei!" Michelangelo leapt to his feet and dashed out of the lair.

…

In the bathroom, Donatello wrapped Leonardo's wrists as he sat, cleaned and feeling somewhat better on the closed toilet. The blood tinged the white pink as it seeped through. He kept his eyes closed and mumbled over and over that he was so tired. His skin felt hot where Donatello touched. But Leonardo refused to take any pills.

"Please, I need to…lay down," he said quietly.

"Okay, bro. Let me help you into your room."

April backed out as he led Leonardo slowly out and into his bedroom. She glanced around and saw that Splinter was alone in the living room. He watched in silence as Leonardo and Donatello moved from one room to another. April sighed and moved into the kitchen to brew a pot of tea. She wondered where everyone was as she placed several mugs on the table. Splinter sat. He ran a claw over his face. April noticed how it trembled.

"Deception…My poor foolish son," he muttered.

"You think that D…Deborah attacked Leo?" she asked tentatively.

He looked at her as she poured the steaming tea into the mug in front of him.

"I am only sure of one thing. That woman is a danger. She has used Raphael's only vulnerability to her advantage to discover our home." He slammed his hand down on the table in frustration.

The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"What if she just loves him, would you still be against their…relationship?" She bit her lip and internally cursed herself.

Splinter stared at her through the steam of the mugs with an unreadable expression. Before he could reply, Donatello came into the kitchen and sat heavily in a chair. He reached for the tea, looked at it and grimaced.

"Ugh, I think I need something stronger." He glanced at April. "We have any coffee?"

Splinter shifted in his seat with one last sideway glance at April before addressing Donatello.

"How is Leonardo?"

"He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. I guess his wounds on his legs and wrists got sliced during his fight. I'm not sure how else to explain it."

…

Leonardo moaned and rolled to one side. He was lost in the dark again. This time he curled into a ball; head on his knees; arms over his head; shaking with fright. He didn't want to seek anything, didn't want to try to find his way out. He knew what waited for him in the dark. The sensual terror that called out to him; that knew his name and his darkest need. There was nowhere to hide. He just wanted to rest. He wanted the nightmare to end. If he could just stay perfectly still and get as small as possible maybe she wouldn't be able to find him. He held his breath, silently praying. He felt her presence looming over him suddenly and he closed his eyes tightly; trying to block out the feelings she evoked within him.

"N…No, _please_," he whispered knowing his pleas would be ignored but unable to stop himself.

He felt her hands on his shoulders and he quaked beneath her touch; tried to roll himself tighter into a ball, his toes curling. Tears squeezed free and ran down the sides of his cheeks, wetting the sides of his biceps.

"I think it's time I bring you home, _lover_."

He slowly raised his face from beneath his shaking arms. His mouth hung open, a silent plea forming on his lips. As his eyes met hers, they turned to gold. His head rolled back and he clenched his teeth as the pain came; fierce and unrelenting.

…

Deborah leaned against the bricks of the storm sewer, catching her breath. Raphael soon caught up with her. When he spotted her he stopped for a moment then moved quickly towards her.

"What the hell was all that?" he asked, his voice raising, unable to hide the anger and confusion he felt.

Deborah shook her head. "You don't understand. It's not what your rat-dad thinks."

_"Don't call him that,"_ he said clenching his jaw.

Deborah pushed off the wall and approached Raphael with outstretched hands. Before she could touch him he backed up. She stopped in her tracks. He looked away. He hated that he reacted that way, but couldn't help it. He was so confused and hurt. What kind of game was she playing with him?

"Oh, come _on_. After everything I've done for you guys, you can't tell me you don't trust me!"

He stared at her, his eyes searched hers. "It's a simple question," he said finally.

Deborah put her hands on her hips, looked down and sighed heavily through her nose.

"Fine. Yes, it was the Foot calling. We were robbing an ammunition supplier for the Purple Dragons when you're brother in blue showed up. I never touched him. Trust me, I wouldn't have survived if I did." She shook her head and suppressed a shudder with the memory of the carnage.

"We were expecting some resistance so back up was coming. That's why they called. My body wasn't found among the dead, so…they probably wanted to know where I was." she shrugged. "It's not like I was going to tell them I was standing in the middle of your home. I left before they could track my location."

Raphael took it all in, considering her words when Michelangelo came upon them. He stopped a few feet away.

"Er…" he said unsure.

"That's not the question I need answered," Raphael said quietly.

Deborah looked at him. Her face wore an expression of confusion and something like pity. He huffed and decided he couldn't ask, not now, the time wasn't right, not with Michelangelo breathing down his back. He decided to ask something else.

"Why are you still with the Foot?"

Deborah appraised him, somehow knowing that wasn't what he wanted to ask. But she went with it.

"I'm gonna kill him," she said simply.

Raphael's face shot up, understanding and horror dawning. "The _Shredder_?!" he sputtered.

She pulled something out from her belt. His eyes widened at the sight of his sai. The one she took from him the night they met. The night she kissed him. She tilted her head and kissed the tip of the weapon. A strange feeling swept through him as she did and he swallowed dryly.

"And I've got my chance right now."

"No, _no!_ Are you out of your fuckin' mind?!"

Before he could say or do anything else she turned and flew up the ladder, opened the cover and took off running. Raphael screamed after her.

"Deborah! Get back here!"

He started up the ladder, gusts of snow showered down on him as he went, grunting from the pain in his leg, ignoring it. Hysteria played along the edges of his mind. He never felt so terrified. Even when he was in that cage facing down that massive opponent, when he thought it was over for him when the Shredder entered, the fear he felt for himself was nothing compared to this ice running through his veins. He wouldn't let her do this. She had no idea what the Shredder was capable of. She was going to get slaughtered. He couldn't lose her, not when he'd just found her again.

He felt Michelangelo's hands on his shell trying to stop him.

_"Get off me!"_ he screamed and continued up.

"Fine, but I'm coming with!" Michelangelo scooped up Raphael's crutch and followed his brother to the surface.

…

**A/N: **I see the Foot and the Purple Dragons at odds with each other, both being an organization that wants control and power throughout NY so, in my story they aren't working together, at least not at this point. Watch out! The Mistress returns in the next chapter!


	20. Chpt 20: Enemy Rising

**A/N:** Get ready for a lot of action!

**CHAPTER 20 – ENEMY RISING**

The blades on his arms and shoulders gleamed as he moved forward through the snow. Each step marching him straight through the melee of gun fire and bodies. Screaming ninjas and bleeding gang members lay scattered around his feet as he went. His long cape billowed out behind him, his exposed flesh numb to the cold; his heart just as numb; grief replaced with adrenaline and bloodlust.

He swung out and plunged his knuckle blades deep within a punk's chest. The blades easily sliding through the bone puncturing his lungs and silencing the furiously beating heart caged within. He spun and raked the blades adorning his shin across the face of another Purple Dragon who went down screaming, clutching at the bloody mess his face had become, dropping his hand gun into the deep snow. Beneath his mask, Shredder grinned a savage grin; smiling like death itself.

…

Raphael emerged from the sewer and broke out into a run only to stumble and land roughly in the snow. The air crushed out from his lungs in a harsh grunt with the impact. The electric pain in his leg shot up through his hip. The icy snow stuck to his skin as he clawed at the ground until he pushed himself up. Michelangelo's hands went to him and he fought at first before allowing his brother to help him to his feet, propping the crutch forcefully beneath his armpit.

Michelangelo took a moment and looked into his brother's determined eyes. He knew that look. He gave Raphael a short nod and patted his shoulder. Together with they followed after Deborah's footprints clear in the deep snow. Above them, the early morning sky hung heavy with the snow laden clouds. The dawn struggling against the strangle hold the night and the storm fiercely clung to.

…

Leonardo bolted upright in his bed. His wide eyes darted about.

_Where?_

Then his shoulders dropped as he realized he was in his room, on his bed, safe. The vision of the Mistress still lingered just behind his eyes, shimmering like an afterthought in his mind's eye. He ran a moist hand over his face. Another dream. That's all it was.

_I'm okay,_ he thought, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart; his exhale came out in a wavering huff.

He glanced down in confused surprise at the bandages wrapped around his wrists. The pink stain growing and darkening before his eyes. He started to shake and with rubbery knees, came to stand. He stumbled to the door and out of his room towards the bathroom. He suddenly felt nauseous. He retched and fell into the door frame of the bathroom and scrambled to the toilet just as he retched again and then vomited. His stomach seized and more came up. Miserably he clung to the edge of the toilet as he heaved. With closed eyes, he reached up and flushed.

_Better_, he thought.

Using the edge of the sink to brace him, he stood. His legs felt weak and watery. He glanced up into the mirror and frowned. Slowly, with the back of his trembling hand, he wiped the fluid from his bottom lip and stared down at the smear of red against his flesh. His eyes shot from the toilet back to his reflection in the mirror. A cramping pain made him double over. He fell to his knees as the pain crushed him into a helpless ball. A whine slid through his gnashing teeth. Tears ran down the sides of his face.

…

Splinter was pacing in the living room when Leonardo went stumbling out from his room to the bathroom. He stopped and watched him go. From his son's movements, he could tell something was wrong.

"Donatello," Splinter said, unsure.

He held out a claw as Donatello and April were getting ready to head back to her apartment. The two froze as the sounds of Leonardo being sick in the other room reached them. April and Donatello exchanged worried glances.

"Maybe I should check on him," Donatello said. "Just a sec, then we'll go, okay?"

April nodded. The events of the night along with having not slept were catching up to her. Her head felt groggy and her body heavy with sleep deprivation. Donatello took two steps when a bright light flooded the lair blinding them all. Splinter fell to a crouch and dashed towards April who cried out and shielded her eyes. Donatello turned his head side to side, squinting, trying to make out the source of the brilliant light. It seemed to appear just above where Master Splinter had been standing.

He stepped forward when a crack like a thunderclap sounded in the lair and a strong gust of air threw everyone back. April's back hit the stove. She cried out in pain and fell in a heap onto the cool floor of their kitchen. Donatello's shell slammed into the table and he slid down to the floor, arms up, protecting his face as he fell. His mind raced in multiple directions at once. He heard April's cry of pain and it sent a wave of terror through him. Splinter was thrown into the bricks of the wall. With a groan and a sharp shake of his head, he braced himself on his hands and knees, clutching his cane in one fist.

Out of the light, a golden woman stepped. Her white hair billowed out around her head as the air lashed around her. Her white robes rippled and danced against her slim frame. She hovered in the middle of the lair, hands on her hips. Her face slowly took in her surroundings, a smile played along her lips.

"Come to me." Her voice reverberated around them and seemed to come from the walls more than from her throat. "Come to me," she commanded.

In the bathroom, on the floor, Leonardo was curled into a ball, the pain radiating throughout his nervous system, burning him alive from the inside out. Sweat dampened his arms and legs, running down the sides of his face. At the Mistress' command, he raised his head and opened his eyes. His golden eyes.

"No," he said between his teeth.

His body lurched forward; the side of his shell scraped across the rough floor. Some invisible force pulled him. When he resisted by grabbing the edge of the sink the pain flooded his body like an electrical current. His fingers released. The pain eased. He scrambled to take hold of something, anything, to stop himself from being dragged into the living room, towards the blinding light. His hands snatched desperately at the pile of his leather belts and straps where Donatello had left them in a heap. His fingers circled around a familiar shape. He held on for dear life as he spun and skidded out of the bathroom.

…

Deborah followed the sounds of battle. The rat-tat-tat of rapid gun fire and the faint cries of men steadily grew louder as her feet pounded through the nearly knee-deep snow. Some of the drifts had the garbage cans completely buried on either side of her as she dashed through the alleys back to where the ammunition supplier had set up shop. Before long two ninjas flanked her.

"Deborah!"

Someone shouted her name and her head whipped around. The voice was familiar. A soldier appeared near her. He ripped his mask off. Beneath the mess of brown hair, Deborah recognized the face. It was Robert McKinley. His mouth sported a swollen lump and a line of blood was smeared across his chin. His dark brown eyes scanned her face; body; apparently amazed she was still in one piece.

"You're alright!"

He sounded relieved. Relieved and very happy. She smiled nervously at him and nodded. With wide eyes she scanned the chaos only a few yards ahead of them. Bullets rang out and ricocheted through the alley. Robert wrapped his hand around her bicep and pulled her back against the bricks, slipping and sprawling against the toppled, snow covered garbage cans. They crouched behind the metal cans as the bullets peppered against them, sounding strangely musical to Deborah.

The other ninja who came upon her with Robert was not as fast. He took the brunt of the fire. His body jerked and bounced as he was sprayed with bullets before he fell straight backwards into the snow. His body barely making a sound, muffled from the cushion the snow gave. Deborah watched it all in what seemed to be slow motion. Her eyes growing wide and following the soldier's last moments with sick fascination and horror. She didn't even know who it was. With his mask over his face, he was but another body bleeding out in the snow.

She turned to Robert as he jerked her back.

"Wait, stay under cover," he hissed. His breathing was heavy. As she looked at him he seemed young and lost and mostly, scared. To her surprise, he smiled a crooked smile at her.

"I'm really glad you're okay," he said breathlessly.

Deborah wasn't sure what to say so she stayed quiet and managed to blink the gathering snowflakes from her eyelashes. Suddenly, he pulled her close and kissed her. His hand racing through her hair, his other pressing her upper body to him.

…

Michelangelo shoved Raphael to the side just as the spray of bullets rocketed past them. His crutch spun and splintered as one of the bullets hit it. Both their chests heaved from the effort of getting Raphael through the heavy snow. They peered around the dumpster they used for a shield. Up ahead, Raphael made out a body lying in the red spattered snow. Just to one side, crouching behind a snow bank and some garbage cans was Deborah. His heart leapt into his throat. She was there with another ninja.

"Shit," Raphael muttered.

"I don't think we -"

Raphael's quick intake of breath cut him off before he could voice his fears. Michelangelo saw Raphael's grip tighten along the edge of the dumpster. His shoulders were shaking. A fury rose off him and hit Michelangelo like a blast of heat from an open stove.

"What's wrong, bro?"

Raphael looked down; shook his head. His breathing seemed even more labored while Michelangelo was catching his breath and calming down.

"I…It's nothin'," he managed; his voice strained.

Michelangelo gave his brother a puzzled look. His eyes darted from where Deborah sat back to his brother. Raphael seemed to be trying to recover from something that hurt him. Michelangelo patted him on the shoulder and pointed indicating Deborah as she got up and ran ahead, the Foot soldier right behind her. Raphael started and went to get up. Michelangelo pressed down on his shoulder.

"There's a lot of shooting going on up there, Raph, and who knows how many Foot soldiers. Maybe we should," he faltered, "I dunno, get some backup?" His voice got smaller as he finished his question.

The look in Raphael's eyes meant trouble. The worst kind. The brother-getting-severely-injured-almost-dead kind.

"Raph, you don't even know if you can trust her," he added feebly, knowing it was no use but determined to try.

Raphael shook his head stubbornly; as if he was shaking off Michelangelo's words.

"I'm goin' after her, Mikey. You stay here."

Raphael scrambled forward into the snow and snatched his crutch. It was torn up but useable.

Michelangelo sighed and looked up at the swirling snowflakes blotting out the sky. Unlike his brothers, he liked the winter. Especially when it snowed. _They sure were pretty,_ he thought as several snowflakes landed on the cold metal in front of him sticking then melting away. A profound thought hit him then, something half-formed about the fleeting nature of life, but it slipped away before he could grasp onto it or consider it further. His attention turned back to his brother. He jumped up and quickly crept up behind Raphael. Raphael glanced back at him once, gave a short shake of his head then barreled onwards through the snow towards the fighting.

…

"April, you alright?" Donatello's voice cut through the thunderous noise filling the lair.

April's eyes met Donatello's from beneath the table where she'd crawled. She bit her lip and nodded, eyes wide.

Donatello, using the table for support, struggled to his feet. He whipped his bo off his back and held it tightly in two hands. He glanced over his shoulder to check on Splinter who was on his hands and knees, but other than that seemed okay. Then, he raced towards the glowing woman, spinning his bo as he went. The brilliant light blinded him and he concentrated on looking just to the left and down from where she hovered. His mind struggled with accepting what he saw. It was impossible. And yet, there she was. _The light must be an opening or a portal of some kind to her dimension_, his brain reasoned. _Another dimension! Just like the Kraang._

"I don't know how you got here or what you want, but I'm giving you _one second_ to leave!"

The golden woman, floating above him, turned her head and considered him. His breath caught when he made eye contact. Her cat-like pupils shrank to slits. He whimpered as his knees buckled. He crashed to the floor, despite willing his legs to hold him upright.

"All kneel before me."

Stubbornly, he gripped his bo, turning it vertically. He pushed one end hard against the floor and used it to crawl hand over hand back to standing. His eyes watered from the effort it took. He twisted his wrist and swung the bo over his head and brought it around to crack her across her body. It never made contact. She raised her hand just as the bo came at her and deflected the blow with an invisible force. Donatello flew backwards with a loud grunt; his feet high in the air, arms out at his sides and skidded to a stop on his shell. April raced to his side and placed a protective hand over his chest.

"Donnie! Are you okay?"

Momentarily dazed, Donatello shook his head trying to clear it. He blinked a couple of times as April's hand went to his cheek. His hand covered hers and he gave her a short nod, his head clearing as soon as their eyes locked.

The Mistress watched this exchange with intense interest. An amused expression followed by a smirk spread across her face. She began to move towards them.

"Now, what is _this_?"

She closed her eyes, her hands held out in front of her, feeling the air. As she came closer, April shrunk against Donatello who wrapped a protective arm around her, turning so one shoulder shielded her. The Mistress' eyes flew open. They flashed with delight.

"A forbidden…love?"

April's eyes widened. Donatello cringed and blushed as he quickly looked away from April. She chuckled and the room vibrated with the sound.

"Oh, _yes_. I know your heart foolish creature."

Donatello's cheeks burned and he ground his teeth together. He couldn't bear to look at April just then. His heart's secret being dragged into the open was too painful. He couldn't find the courage to see April's reaction. The fear of her rejection kept his eyes glued on the Mistress.

"Such a waste. Your desire is _deep_ and yet you _hide_ it."

Her eyes narrowed. She turned to Splinter, who was on his feet, seething in fury; her eyebrow raised. She lifted her hand and April was pulled away from Donatello. He clutched at her hands and pajama sleeves but couldn't take hold in time. He scrambled forward then jumped to his feet.

_"April!" _

_"Release her!" _Splinter shouted.

The Mistress curled her hand into a fist and April felt her body raising off the ground while something invisible started wrapping around her throat; choking her. Her feet kicked in the open air; her hands flew to her throat as she struggled to breathe.

…

They rounded out from the alley into an open parking lot. The tall fence bordering it lay on the ground crushed and twisted. Robert pushed Deborah aside. They crouched behind a detached trailer from a semi-truck. The side was covered in Purple Dragon gang graffiti. Their breath came in little white puffs. He looked at her with bright eyes.

"You just stay back, okay? We can handle this. I'll catch up with you after."

"Rob…" she started to say, but he stepped back and pulled his mask on and ran forward, grabbing a ninja-ken from his belt. A spray of bullets had him leap and roll to the nearest cover. She watched with her breath held and released it when she saw him pat another soldier on the back.

A strangled cry of pain caught her attention and she crept to the edge of the trailer, hazarding a peek around it. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, all other sound died away. In the shadowy light of the gray morning, the Shredder stood boldly exposed in the center of the lot, surrounded by a ring of carnage. His blades gleamed a rosy color from the smears and spatters of blood. His tattered cape billowed around him and then fell rippling back as the gust of wind died down; revealing his profile to Deborah and the source of the cry of pain.

His right arm was raised out away from his body. His fist above his head where a man squirmed and shuddered, impaled by the long blades that adorned the Shredder's knuckles. The man's body quaked and stilled. The Shredder swung his arm out with such force that the body slipped free and flew off the blades. A trail of red hung suspended in the air for a moment as the man's body skidded through the snow, leaving a path of red in its wake.

He turned then in her direction and Deborah saw that his helmet was off, revealing a shock of black thick hair, the left side colored by a patch of white. The front of his body was splattered in reddish black strokes. His uniform had torn in places, hanging in long strips, exposing a toned and muscular chest and abdomen. His right thigh sported a deep gash that may have been from a bullet wound and it bled in a sheet down his leg coating the blades on his shin in bright crimson. His confident stride broke as he stumbled forward to the ground as a spray of bullets peppered them.

Deborah shrank back with a gasp. He was only a few feet away from her. Her mind and body went numb. Her breath stopped. The only sound she heard was the blood racing through her ears. Her hand went to Raphael's sai. She slid it free; gripped it in her fist and stepped forward.

…

"S…Stop." Leonardo's voice was soft and low. "I'm here, Mistress."

The Mistress' smile froze on her face and she dropped April to the ground. She writhed and gasped for air. Donatello dove to her side, lifting her under her arms and pulling her back and away from the woman.

"There you are, my pet," she purred, turning to Leonardo.

"My son, get back!" Splinter shouted.

He sprinted and leapt at the Mistress only to be deflected. His body slammed against the bricks and the invisible force held him there. The Mistress stared at Leonardo as Splinter struggled to get free.

"You will remember all that you've lost."

Leonardo crawled forward and knelt, sitting on his heels just outside the bathroom door, his sword gripped with two hands in front of him. The tip shook violently. His body was coated in a thin layer of sweat. His fear filled eyes flashed gold.

"Let him go," he said, his voice wavering.

The Mistress opened her left hand forcefully and a blast of power hit Splinter. He screamed and writhed against the bricks as his robe fluttered. He threw back his head. His cane clattered to the floor.

Images flooded his mind as pain lanced through his body. Memories of another life time, the faces of those he loved and lost flooded his mind's eye. The last face lingered. The face of Tang Shen.

Her cheeks covered in tears as she accepted his proposal of marriage. Yoshi foolishly believing at the time that his young bride was overwhelmed with joy; only to learn later, that her heart never belonged to him. A letter crumpling in his fist. A love letter written by his wife to her long lost love, Saki. That it was a farewell, did not change the truth of what was written plainly there. The fight. The candles falling to the rug. The rage he felt as he stormed away from her, from their life together; a life built on lies. He didn't know the flames spread so quickly. He never knew until it was far too late.

Splinter's howl of pain came from deep within him. The searing pain of betrayal and loss and guilt and sorrow blended with the agony his body shook with and it formed a wordless sound and it rose out from within his heart and body like a monstrous beast from hell.

"Stop! No, Splinter! Stop it!" Donatello screamed.

Leonardo's knees shook as he came to stand. He raised his sword; fighting against the terrible pain coursing through him from resisting the Mistress.

"Let him go!" he managed choke out, his chest heaving.

"It still thinks it's brave," she said as she watched him trembling and the sight brought her much pleasure. "I'm bringing you home, my brave, brave little pet."

The Mistress smiled a terrible smile at him and with her right hand she pulled from her belt a long golden whip. Her arm arched back as she unfurled it. She cracked it and the length of it lit with white fire. She cracked it again and it snapped the sword from Leonardo's hands. It flew out in front of him, spinning. He gasped and hissed from the pain as it struck his wrists. Another crack and the end of the whip wrapped around Leonardo's neck searing his skin and yanking him forward. He staggered, struggling with the cord around his throat. Her laugh rained down on them all as she pulled Leonardo towards her and the portal opening. He fell to his knees as he strained and fought.

Donatello ran to Splinter and stopped abruptly and gasped as Splinter screamed again. Donatello's eyes widened as the fur on Splinter's body rippled and peeled away. White flesh stood out unnaturally bright against the dark red of the bricks. The Mistress dropped her arm and Splinter sprawled on to the floor in a heap at Donatello's feet. He fell on him only to freeze in fright when he saw what had been done to his father.

"S…Splinter, wh…what has she done to you?" he choked out.

From the sleeve of Splinter's robe, a trembling hand reached out to him. A human hand.

….

**A/N:** Dun-Dun-DUNNNNN! What has the Mistress done? What's going to happen to Deborah? Stay tuned and as always thank you for the favoriting and following and mostly the wonderful WONDERFUL reviews! xoxoxox


	21. Chpt 21: Opportunity Slips

**CHAPTER 21 – Opportunity Slips**

Raphael lumbered out from the mouth of the alley just in time to see Deborah crouching at the edge of a truck trailer, only a few feet away from him. His heart jumped to his throat as he left the shelter of the alley's shadows. He lurched forward, only to be pulled roughly back by Michelangelo.

"I'm goin' in!" Michelangelo hollered in Raphael's ear as he shoved him backwards. Raphael lost his footing as his weight came down awkwardly on his weak leg. He fell onto his shell with a grunt. _What was Mikey doing?_

"Mikey, no!" he barked.

The sound of his voice was drowned out by the clatter of bullets. Only steps away from Deborah he watched as Michelangelo's body jerked unnaturally. His brother rose in the air and then flew back pushing a path through the deep snow with the back of his shell. He skidded to a halt, crashing into a pile of pallets and lay still as Raphael scrambled, crawling towards where he lay. His eyes closed, chest heaving with shallow breaths, Michelangelo's hands worked at the snow. Raphael gasped. He was shot, the wound in his shoulder pouring blood out with frightening speed. He pressed the heel of his hand onto the wound and Michelangelo groaned. His eyes fluttered.

"Yeeouch," he said weakly and huffed out a weak chuckle that dissolved into a whimper. "So much for my heroic moment."

…

The Mistress pulled Leonardo towards the portal. A look of pure glee on her face, twisting the perfect features into something otherworldly; demonic. She lowered herself and crouched before him. Leonardo's eyes were wild with fear. He clawed at the cord wound around his neck. The white flames stinging, but not actually burning his flesh. She caressed his cheek and he shuddered, still trying to pull away from her. Making the whip only tighten around his throat. Black spots appeared in front of his vision.

"Your presence in this world is out of sync with the natural order. You don't belong in this desert world, my pet." She glanced over where Donatello knelt in front of Splinter's shaking body. "None of you do, really. Should I bring your brother along as well?"

Her eyes watched Leo's carefully as she raised her hand and Donatello's body went rigid. Her voice dropped lower as Leonardo struggled to shake his head no. The pain electric through him as he resisted. The blood from the wounds on his wrists now trickled down his forearms.

"He is ripe with his own desires. I could feast off him for _days_."

She released the whip and it wound around his torso on its own, pinning his arms to his side, his wrists pressed painfully against his chest. He fell forward and rolled onto his side. His fingers pried at the length around his throat, loosening it a little. Air seared his aching lungs. It was a painful relief.

She strode past April who was kneeling at the entrance of their kitchen with one hand pressed against her throat, still gasping. She shrank back as the Mistress moved across her line of sight. She started towards Leonardo, but hesitated, turning to see the golden woman reach down and grasp Donatello by the back of his neck. He cried out in protest and squirmed as she lifted him; dragging him back; his heels scraping along the floor. With a glance at Splinter, who stared with glassy eyes at his hand held up in front of his face, lost in his terror and memories, she turned away, a grim smirk on her lips. April stood up on quivering legs. Her knees felt like they were jelly.

"Let him go, right now," she said, her voice sounding small and weak and strained in her own ears.

The Mistress cocked her head at April. An eyebrow raised. She reached around and began to stroke Donatello's plastron as his legs bucked and his hands fought to free himself from her hold. Her long, claw-like nails scraped lightly over him. The Mistress watched April but turned her mouth to the side of Donatello's face.

"Now, now, don't fight. Save your energy for more productive endeavors," she spoke gently in his ear, but made sure April heard each word.

"Let him go!" April shouted, hands balled into fists.

…

Raphael glanced over his shoulder; eyes grew into wide circles as Deborah moved out into the open with his sai clutched in her fist. _No, Deborah, don't do this to me. _She was going to die in front of him. He turned back to his brother, shaking his head in frustration. His heart tearing in two. He knew he couldn't save them both. There was nothing he could do. His throat worked and he blinked trying to stop the burning sensation he felt in his eyes.

His eyes met Michelangelo's, wide and glassy with pain and fear. His eyes pleaded with him not to leave him. Raphael closed his eyes, ground his teeth together. Decision made. With a groan, he ripped off his masked, balled it up and forced it onto the gunshot wound. Michelangelo winced. He grabbed Michelangelo's hand and had him press; then gripped his brother's other fist in his and pulled him up to sitting.

"I can't carry you, bro," he said, his voice urgent and rough. "Can you walk?"

Michelangelo nodded and moved to stand, grimacing in pain.

"Raph," Mikey started, his voice cracking, "I'm _sorry_."

With a burning glare and a rough, short shake of Raphael's head, Michelangelo ducked his head and closed his mouth. With one last glance over his shoulder and a sinking heart, Raphael stumbled back, retreating into the shadows with his injured brother. Reluctantly leaving his love to her fate.

…

Tears pricked at the back of April's eyes. She cast around for a weapon, anything she could use against the demon woman. She spotted Leonardo's katana a few feet away. She edged towards it a step but forced herself to stop as the Mistress chuckled. The sound of it sent ice through her veins. Her attention shot back to Donatello still struggling against the Mistress' hold on him. The force of Donatello's kicks slowly abated and his arms fell limply at his sides; subdued.

"That's better," The Mistress purred.

She began to whisper in his ear. The sound floated all around them, the sound of whispering; the echoing words blurred and unrecognizable. A smile spread across the Mistress' face as she continued, her eyes never leaving April's. The look on Donatello's face was a mix of fury and fear. His head twitched a bit as if he tried to shake it, 'no'. He began to tremble. His face colored and twisted into a look of agony. The Mistress kissed him gently on the cheek, her eyes shot to where April stood. Donatello's eyes grew round with terror.

_"Please...n...no, don't!"_ he pleaded softly. The Mistress' laughter echoed around him.

April lurched forward as she felt a wave of some unidentifiable but powerful emotion sweep over her. The force of it knocked her to her knees with a gasp. Her head swam with sensual and sultry images; most a blur of hands and lips and caresses. But one thing stood clear, all the images featured Donatello and her. She was sweating and her heart raced. Her fingers gripped the throw rug beneath her hands. Her breath came in shallow pants. A tremor went through her and she shuddered. Her head pressed against the floor; her body curled over her folded legs. She moaned.

Behind her Leonardo growled. "_No! _April. Leave her _alone_," he cried out.

"His desire, for you, pure and unencumbered," The Mistress informed her in a flat voice, ignoring Leonardo as he struggled against the whip holding him fast.

The Mistress dragged Donatello forward to April and threw him down. He collapsed next to her. Face flushed and burning, his shaking arm went around her back, protectively. He felt her shivering body stiffen and shrink away from him; his heart breaking as she did. His eyes darted over the back of her head. Wishing he could see her face, but dreading what he'd find there. The bitter thought rose up. _What did I expect?_

_"A…April, I…I…"_ his voice was barely a whisper. He felt like he was going to be sick.

The Mistress stroked his cheek, appearing next to him suddenly. He jumped and yanked his head away, narrowing his eyes.

"I will not reject you."

…

Deborah stepped through the snow, her body moving sideways in a partial crouch. Her eyes scanned the open parking lot, only catching the fleeting movements of the gang members falling back and a few unlucky souls struggling, injured in the deep snow. Of her fellow ninjas, they lived up to their name. She couldn't spot any of them. Her eyes went wide as she watched the Shredder pushing himself up with hands braced beneath his chest. Blood, black and sticky, soaked his chest and the crushed snow beneath him. Her knees buckled and she wrapped her arm around the back of his neck; gripped the corner of his tattered cape in her fist, pulling him upwards. The sai in her quivering right hand angled for his throat.

_Now's your chance, Deborah! Kill him! He murdered your brother!_

The Shredder's eyes, dark and fathomless rose to meet hers. One damaged and forever blind, one whole and black and filled with despair and emptiness. Her heart hammered in her chest as time slowed around them. His mask had fallen from his face, exposing him to her. Strands of his dark hair were plastered against his forehead. Drips of melted snow trickled over his eye brows and down the sides of his face. One half ruined, twisted and scarred, the other it's shadow of what he once looked like. He was completely vulnerable. It was her only best chance she'd ever get. Her mind screamed at her to finish him. The bloodlust coursed through her veins with each rapid heartbeat.

_Do it!_

She hesitated. Of all the things she had done over the years to keep her and her brother safe, she had never killed anyone. She'd been forced into situations that called for her to be clever and quick and do things she made herself believe she'd forgotten. But she swore she wouldn't lose herself so far that she would become a killer. Over the years, she'd slid through the underbelly and sub-societies of the cities without ever really being touched by the filth. Everything and anything that was required of her, she could do without guilt or remorse. But not that. It was one of the main reasons she'd pressured her brother, Tyler, so hard to leave the Foot Clan. She became distracted and he lost his life because of it.

She panted as her pulse raced, the wind blowing wet strands of hair into her face, then off again. Their eyes continued to stare into each other and something passed between them. She couldn't do it. Not like this. He was defenseless and so now, was she. Her hand faltered and fell to her side, her fingers numb from clutching the sai so tightly, just as Robert pounced on them, nearly knocking Shredder into her from the force.

"Master!" His face shot to Deborah's then back to Shredder's. "We've got you. Help him up, Deb. Hurry." He stared at Deborah's frozen form. "Now, soldier!"

She snapped out of her daze. Shaken and numb, Deborah slid Raphael's sai into her belt. The Shredder's arm went around her back and shoulders as she stood, still somewhat lost in a haze of furious emotions, helping him. Helping the Shredder. Her actions mirroring how she'd carried Raphael and his brother to safety with a surreal accuracy. A strange feeling swept through her.

Robert lifted the silver mask from the snow. The Shredder snapped it into place with a hand that trembled ever so slightly as he did. His eyes never leaving Deborah's face.

…

"I will never reject you. Your desire is only what I require," The Mistress stroked his cheek again.

Donatello growled and cringed away from her touch even as April pulled further away from him, out from under his protective embrace. April scurried backwards, away from Donatello, feeling his fingers grasp at her weakly, desperate not to lose contact. His stomach sank and his throat worked, trying to swallow away the lump that formed there. Keeping his eyes locked on the Mistress and her cat-like pupils, it was all he could do not to turn to April, clutch her in his arms and beg for her understanding or at least her forgiveness. Maybe he could still salvage a friendship. His heart constricted at the thought. He couldn't think about the pain right now. If he lingered on it for just a second, he was sure he'd break down. And that was the last thing he wanted to do.

"You will finally know what it is you long so desperately for."

She leaned over Donatello as he fell back. His hands going behind him; heels digging into the ground; scrambling away. She merely followed. Some force flowed out of her and over him. He wanted to kick at her but couldn't. His traitorous body wouldn't heed any of his mind's orders. She reached out and gently pushed his chest back. He gritted his teeth and trembled at her touch. Feelings he'd only ever had for April surfaced. He strained against the urge to release himself. It was as if she could control his most base instincts.

_Some kind of physic control over our deepest desires, _he thought_. What the hell was this woman?_

_…_

April crawled to Leonardo's side, her foot moving Leonardo's katana closer as she did. She didn't want to hurt Donnie right now, but she had to act while she managed to gather some control of her emotions. She pushed away the heated feelings and imagery still swirling in her mind's eye. The Mistress told her it was Donatello's desire crashing through her mind and flowing over her body. But that was only partially true. It wasn't _only_ Donatello's thoughts and desires that assaulted her in that moment. That he felt these feelings for her really was no surprise. The fact that she felt that way for him seemed to have given her some small amount of control on the situation. Her face burned with embarrassment but she clenched her jaw and focused on the now. She'd have to consider the implications of her own feelings later. Once they got rid of this evil demon!

For now, she clung to the distant memory of what Leonardo had confessed to her just a few hours ago. _Was it really only a few hours since Leo came tapping at her window? When he gave her a tear filled explanation of his ordeal and lost in the pain of it, tried to find some misguided comfort in her?_ This Mistress woman had some sort of dark power connected to desire and lust and she'd wielded it like a weapon against them. But the power was not affecting her like it was the guys and April was reminded of stories of succubus she'd read about. Maybe she wasn't exactly a succubus, but April didn't care about the details. She had to act while the Mistress was distracted with Donatello. _Donatello!_ April shook but dared not look back. She bit her lip and sat up. She hoped her courage would hold out.

Leonardo could see her face was reddened and flushed as she sat up and began pulling at the whip fastened around him. The flames did not seem to burn her either, only sting as she pulled back her fingers to shake them every few seconds. The feelings she had experienced had shook him as well. Each and every slight brush of her skin on his made him tremble. It was only because of the pain that he managed to control himself. But it was a tentative control at best. He pushed back the wicked visions clouding his mind, pushed them aside and tried to see her as she was to him. But the image of him leaning in to kiss her flashed through his mind and he cringed.

"April, I…" he began in a soft broken voice.

She shook her head quieting him and gave him a wavering smile of reassurance as the cord loosened beneath her fingers. Finally it gave enough for him to brace himself up with his blood-coated arms. He leaned on one elbow, the unnatural golden irises flicked between her eyes. He was struggling, she knew. A thought came to her, then. If desire and lust fueled this creature…

April reached out to Leonardo, whose gaze only intensified. She swallowed nervously under the power of that look, the hunger and desperation nearly making her quail. Her hands gently patted him on the shoulder. He shook violently from the contact. She leaned in.

Leonardo's frantic mind scattered as April leaned into him. His ears filled with the thunderous sound of his heartbeat. He felt his thoughts clearly split in half – one side embracing the need, the other pulling away, refusing to give in to the raging emotions inflicted by The Mistress within him.

_What was she doing to him? Couldn't she tell he was barely holding onto himself? Why would she do this to me?_

A fleeting sadness of betrayal tugged at his heart. Tears pricked the back of his eyes as he felt the last of his resolve fracturing.

_ "April," _he croaked.

April brought her face close to Leo just as his eyelids fluttered closed, she tilted her head and planted a kiss on his cheek. A kiss of love. The love of a big sister encouraging and supporting her little brother.

Leonardo closed his eyes as he felt her lips on his cheek; felt the purity and honesty of her love. A deep sigh like the first breath he'd taken in weeks passed through his lungs. His mind cleared. When he opened his eyes, they shone blue; the deep blue of a summer evening just after the sun had set. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his katana and he climbed to stand.

The Mistress looked up from Donatello and hissed just as Leonardo leapt forward; a blur of green and silver; sword aimed high. With a scream of rage, he plunged it deep within her chest until the tip burst from her back.

…

Leonardo's scream of pain and rage struck them, causing their approach to come to a stuttering halt.

Raphael and Michelangelo looked at each other and despite being barely able to hold each other up, adrenaline kicked in and together they hobbled towards the entrance to the lair. A blinding light flashed and a noise like a sonic boomed erupted from the entrance, throwing them back into the filthy water. The sound was unlike anything they'd ever heard; a rupturing, shattering noise that was a physical assault of their ear drums. Gasping and grabbing at Michelangelo, Raphael gripped his fist and hurled him up to his feet with all the strength he could muster. Michelangelo swayed and leaned heavily into his older brother. Raphael gritted his teeth, ignored the pain from his throbbing leg and stumbled forward into the lair.

Michelangelo collapsed out of Raphael's hold as Raphael abruptly stopped just inside the entrance, taking in the scene before him.

Leonardo knelt next to a shivering Master Splinter. His fur was mussed and his whiskers twitched uncontrollably. His amber eyes rolled upwards and held a distant, frightened look that made Raphael's skin crawl. Leonardo was murmuring something he couldn't make out, sounding like he was trying to comfort their shaken father. In the center of the room, Donatello and April sat a few feet apart, looking awkward and nervous. They kept stealing furtive glances at each other like they'd never seen one another before, only for their eyes to meet then look away hastily.

Donatello's eyes met Raphael then traveled to the floor and landed on his brother. Instantly, he jumped to his feet. This sudden movement snapped Raphael out of his daze. Michelangelo moaned.

"Mikey!" Donnie called as he ran over and began taking in his condition.

"He's been shot," Raphael said, his voice flat, and felt the strength leave his legs.

He collapsed to the ground as Donatello hauled Michelangelo to the infirmary. April made to follow, hesitant at first, but following behind eager to help. Raphael braced his elbows on top of his knees, ran a sweaty palm over his face and felt the hot tears beginning to fall despite his best efforts to fend them off. He rubbed and pinched his eyes roughly between his fingers and thumb as if he could smear away the last image he had of Deborah: her dark silhouette highlighted by the white snow, her hair billowing out around her head, his weapon in her fist as she moved in for the kill. But whose life had been taken while he was busy saving his little brother?

He choked out a strangled chuckle that was more of a painful sob. He trembled and couldn't fight off the vision of her laying in the blanket of snow ringed in crimson, her eyes open and staring into the darkness.

_"I'm sorry, Deborah." _

He broke down then until finally sleep took him where he lay at the front of the entrance to their home where she had stood alive and smiling at him only a few hours before; when he had known a happiness that he thought he'd never be granted in this world.

…


	22. Chpt 22: Finding the Way Back

Final Chapter...

**Chapter 22 – Finding the Way Back**

Donatello hitched the bag up higher on his shoulder. He was never one to take so long to prepare for going out. Raphael banged on the wall just outside his door.

"Let's move it already," he growled.

Donatello emerged and ducked back as Raphael took a half-hearted swing at him.

"Sorry about that," he mumbled and shifted the back again.

He glanced at the shell cell in his palm. Rereading the last text April had sent him. They were going to April's aunt's apartment. Donatello had told them she texted him with some problems she was having with her hard drive and despite Donatello's attempts to walk her through several fixes over the phone, she finally convinced him to just come over in person. Her aunt was out. The last line burned itself into his retinas.

'I need 2 talk 2 u.'

He let out a trembling sigh. He snapped the phone shut and led the way out. Splinter sat with his back to them, a blanket around his shoulders. Leonardo placed his hands on either of his shoulders.

"We're going out, Sensei. We won't be gone long, I promise," he said in a soft voice.

Splinter only nodded absentmindedly. Leonardo patted his father's shoulder then turned to leave with his brothers, allowing Donatello to take the lead while he followed behind Raphael.

It had been several months since the Mistress attacked them and Leonardo pierced her through the chest with his sword, effectively sending her back to her own dimension and closing the portal to her world. They'd spent the time healing and regrouping. Some things fell back into place as if nothing had happened, other things seemed to change permanently.

…

Master Splinter struggled from the devastating mental blow he had taken when the demon woman used her powers of deception to make him believe he'd been restored to his human self. What he'd seen in his mind, Leonardo could only speculate from his own mental torment, he knew it must have been terrible. So, Leonardo had spent his time with his father, helping him recuperate. He would come back to them, Leonardo reassured his brothers; doubt nagged him, but he gave it no voice.

Leonardo spent most nights torn between nightmares of the Mistress taking him away, sometimes she took Donatello with, and worrying about Splinter. But the nightmares were not like the ones before and for the most part he steadied himself with the image of his blade ripping through the Mistress' chest; reassuring himself that she was gone and couldn't hurt him or his family ever again. Most of the time, he was convinced. When the darkness fell and shadows loomed around him in his room, he'd work harder to stave off the terror lingering just below the surface.

Sometimes his dreams were dark and erotic without the Mistress being involved. He knew she had taken something precious from him and twisted it and made it into a dark thing. So, he trained extra hard in the morning, trying to purge himself of the impurity. He would never be the quite same, but he wouldn't allow it to corrupt him if he could help it. He owed so much to April. He wouldn't ever forget how she'd saved him and broke the spell The Mistress had him under.

He lived in peace for the most part. But there was one time while watching television with Mikey that a woman in the background of a commercial seemed to turn to the camera and look directly at him through the screen; her eyes flashing gold.

_Time slowed. The memory of her voice in his mind echoed. _Time to bring you home, my pet. _Leonardo's heart leapt into his throat._ No, it can't be. I killed you. I pushed the sword through you myself! _Leonardo felt the icy panic overwhelm him_. _She was coming back for him. _It wasn't over. _She would drag him away from his family and take him to her dimension and he'd live his nightmares. She'd take him again and again, kill him over and over. He jumped up onto the cushions of the couch with a sharp cry and scrambled backwards so violently over the back, falling on his shell only to scurry back, that Mikey burst out laughing until he saw the look on his brother's face._

'_You okay, Leo?' he asked concerned._

_Panting, Leonardo's face darted all over the lair, expecting an attack. Sweat broke out over his brow. For several seconds, all he heard was the pounding of his heart and the rushing of his blood in his ears._

'_Leo! What's the matter?' Michelangelo's voice changed from concerned to fearful. He, too, started looking around, wondering what had his brother so spooked._

_Leonardo focused on Michelangelo, his gasping breaths slowing as no danger presented itself. _No, it was just a panic attack. I imagined that woman on t.v. She isn't here. She's gone. She can't hurt me. _His body came down from shaking to trembling. He blinked rapidly then got up and went into the kitchen. With an unsteady hand, he poured himself some water and drank it down. Michelangelo came up behind him. He looked over his shoulder and nodded with a weak smile._

'_I'm okay…I…I'm fine," Leonardo said._

Donatello withdrew and became more and more distant from them and avoided April whenever she had dropped by; running to the junk yard before she'd arrive. He didn't talk to anyone about what had happened in the lair. Leonardo never pressed him about what exactly caused the rift between his brother and April.

Raphael's leg healed and he, for the most part, seemed unchanged. Though often they'd catch him staring at his sai, looking like he was a million miles away from any of them; a look of deep sadness on his face that none of them quite understood. None of them, with the exception of Michelangelo.

Michelangelo worked extra hard to keep their spirits up, though he eased back on the pranks, his jovial attitude and jokes continued to work it's magic. Even Raphael laughed sometimes, though it was a rough sound, like it had worked hard to struggle free from him.

…

The ghostly full moon hung low in the summer sky. It watched as four silent shadows moved from rooftop to rooftop below. At April's apartment, they gathered on the fire escape. Donatello hung back while Leonardo tapped at her window. She appeared and with a wide smile opened the frames up wide. She reached out and hugged Leonardo tightly. Then broke free and smiled her hello's to Michelangelo and Raphael. She tried to catch Donatello's eye, but he was staring at something in the alley below, pointedly not looking at her.

"Hi, guys, um, do you mind if I just borrow Donnie for a little bit?"

The three of them turned and made a physical part so Donatello could pass through the middle. He shifted the straps of his bag and kept his head down and to one side as he moved with leaden feet through them to her window. His eyes met her face for one brief second then fell away to the window frame before she stepped aside and he climbed through.

"We'll be back, say an hour?" Leonardo said. April nodded and with a wave to them they climbed up out of sight.

Donatello took off the bag and immediately crouched down and began checking the wires under her computer desk. April watched him, her hands going to her hips. She cleared her throat and Donatello winced; then continued to ignore her.

"Things look fine under here," he said quickly then turned to rummage in his bag for something. "Does it turn on okay?"

"There's nothing wrong with my hard drive, Donnie."

His hands froze; he closed his eyes, then sat back on his heels. This was it. The confrontation he had tried desperately to avoid. With large glassy eyes, he slowly turned and looked at her, trying to read her expression. Her hands fell from her hips and she moved around to face him. She pushed the bag out of the way.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

His mouth opened and closed. He looked everywhere but her face.

"Donnie –"

He nodded rapidly and started with a pained expression. "I…look, I know what she m…made you see." Once he started, he found the words spilling from his mouth without his control. His pained expression deepened to a look of anguish.

"And…and I'm sure you thought it was m…messed up and…and _gross..._and…and _disgusting_. And…and I…I get it. I understand. I don't blame you for…feeling _sickened_ and freaked out…"

His face was pale; his trembling hands rolling the strap of his bag into a big knot as he went on. He felt sick but went on. There was no turning back now.

"B…But I don't want you to think it's like th…that. You're my friend and I d…don't want anything to come between our friendship."

He glanced up at her then dropped his eyes quickly. April scooted closer; reached out and gently pried the tangled strap out of his fingers. She held both his hands in hers and leaned closer to him.

"Nothing will ever come between our friendship."

He felt relief but also a disappointment in the bottom of his heart. Of course. They'd always be friends. Just friends. Friends. That was good, great actually. Why then did his heart ache and his eyes burn like he was about to cry? His bottom lip quivered.

"But I was hoping that maybe we could try being…more than that?"

The world stopped spinning. The universe turned upside down. His brain could not process the information coming to him. He frowned, then looked up, his brown eyes filled with confusion. _Wait, what did she just say? _His voice came out choked.

"I…I'm sorry. Could you repeat that last part?"

April laughed and released his hands to launch herself against him; wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek over and over. He sat numbly for a few seconds as his brain and heart caught up with reality. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, chuckling with intense relief and giddy disbelief.

"Am I dreaming?" he wondered aloud. April laughed again, tears sparkling in her eyes as she pulled away a little.

"Will you stop talking and kiss me?"

He heard that loud and clear; and he delivered. It was the best kiss of April's life and the first for Donatello.

…

Michelangelo jumped down to the empty concrete courtyard below where he spun and rolled around on his skateboard. Leonardo watched him, keeping a wary eye open for any people or Foot soldiers. A warm breeze made the tails of his mask dance across the back of his neck. He shivered, his mind going somewhere dark with the Mistress featured in his vision. _No!_ He pushed the image away with a clenched jaw, his fingers dug into the rough edge of the parapet he leaned on. He focused on Michelangelo's stunts below; holding tightly to the sound of the skateboard scraping against the concrete.

Raphael was behind him, silent, looking off in the distance. They hadn't talked about that first night when Leonardo was sent after Raphael to bring him home; about the fight that had ensued on that roof top. But after everything they'd been put through, their eyes said what words couldn't. They were brothers. They would fight; even hate each other sometimes. But when shit hit the fan they had each other's backs. Always.

The air shifted and Leonardo glanced back at him. He had something in his hands that he was staring at like it might jump up and bite him. The light reflected off a small silver surface. It looked like a small throwing star. Leonardo tensed.

"Something wrong, Raph?"

"I need to check something," he said as if in a dream.

Leonardo fully turned, his hands going to his swords. Raphael put up a hand to stop him, still staring at the object between his fingers.

"No, not like that. I…just give me a few, okay?"

Leonardo relaxed but frowned. "If you need me…"

Raphael nodded, "Yeah, I know, chief. Not likely, but you'll hear me holler if I do."

…

With his heart skipping and hammering in his chest. He climbed to the roof top. Could it be? It couldn't be. Was impossible. It was too good to be true. He stopped and scanned the roof desperately. Was he imagining things? He looked down at the tear-drop shaped shruiken in his palm. No, this was real. She had to be here.

"Hey there, stranger."

He spun and there she was, leaning up against the side of the small building that served as roof access. She stood up and moved towards him. He took a few rubbery steps.

"Deborah, you…you're okay! You're alive," his voice cracked.

His strength returned and flooded through him and he reached out and grabbed her wrists with both hands, pulling her closer; stopping only when she was a few inches away from his face. He faltered, unsure of what to do. He knew what he _wanted_ to do. But he suddenly felt self-conscious and nervous. She smiled and he felt his heart melt. His breath came shallow and hard.

All these months coming to terms with the real possibility that he'd never see her again. Now here she was. The wind blew tendrils of her hair across her face, the ends tickling the end of his snout. He tightened his grip, moving it from her wrists to her upper arms. He shook her a little.

"I thought you were…when you went after Shredder. I…I've been searchin' for ya. Where've you been?"

Her eyes changed. A shadow fell across them and she looked away. He frowned and eased his grip on her arms, then released her and stepped back. Something wasn't right.

"Well, it's been hard to slip away unnoticed," she said softly. Then turned her eyes back to his and gave him a half-smile. "Let's not talk about that. I'm…just really glad to see you again, Raphael," she finished the sentence in a breathy rush.

Hearing her say his name did something powerful to him and he nearly grabbed her again to hold her against him. But he hesitated, a dread danced in the pit of his stomach. He looked at her, really looked now that he believed he wasn't dreaming. His eyes took in her uniform.

"What are you doin' still with the Foot?" his voice came out accusing and cold.

He wanted to shout at her, wanted to shake her and demand answers, wanted to pull her close and kiss her more than anything, but he couldn't move. She crossed her arms defensively.

"I don't have time for this. Can we just, I don't know, be pleasant right now while we have this moment?"

"Stop avoiding my questions and answer me."

She stared at him. Then dropped her arms to her sides, slapping her thighs in frustration.

"For one thing, I have nowhere else to go."

He snorted. "Bullshit. There're shelters in the city. Hell, you could probably stay with…" his voice caught. Was he asking her to move in with him? The thought was both ridiculous and painfully real. _Come live with me in the sewers. _He shut his eyes and fought the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. _Dammit._

"It's not just that. I have my reasons."

She turned away from him then and leaned against the low wall, looking at the moon.

"You mean your plan to kill Shredder?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him and said nothing. He moved next to her.

"That's only gonna end with you dyin'." Nothing. "Besides, how exactly do you plan on getting close enough to try?"

She shivered and rubbed her arms. He felt a strange emotion come off her then. _Guilt? Remorse?_ Confused, he brushed it off.

"Deborah, you have ta leave the Foot. Get out of there before you end up getting' hurt…or worse."

He went on, feeling his cheeks burn, but the hell with it, "Do you even know what these last few months have been like for me?" She turned and watched him. "Not knowin' if you were alive or dead. Thinkin'…thinkin'…I lost you. It was killin' me."

"And why is that?"

He blinked. "Wh…Why is that?" he repeated, feeling his face color even more and hating it. Her eyebrows raised, waiting.

"B…because," he answered simply thinking he'd gotten away with it. But she continued to stare at him. He squirmed. _Fuck_.

"I..." he dropped his head, raised his eyes to hers, "I…I think…I know…"

God he was yammering on like an idiot. He punched one fist against the top of the wall; shook his head in frustration. He decided to just spit it out and be done with it. Put himself out of his misery. He took a breath and said as quickly as he could…

"Deborah, I love you."

His eyes grew huge and suddenly he wished he didn't say anything at all. His stomach flipped and ice went through his veins. _I'm such a fuckin' idiot._

Deborah stood perfectly still, the breeze making her hair dance around her shoulders and face. She blinked slowly and Raphael realized she looked very sad. He became very afraid.

"I'm sorry," she said and his stomach sank to his feet.

"W…What are you sorry for?"

She turned away and he suddenly felt like he was slipping and falling from a great height. He reached out and grabbed her arm, holding on for dear life, turning her back to face him.

The words choked free from him, "Sorry for givin' me somethin' to hold on to in this sorry excuse for a life?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry because I have to say goodbye."

He almost couldn't hear her from the blood rushing in his ears.

"No, you can't say that to me." She raised an eyebrow. "You can't say goodbye. We never –" his voice cracked but he didn't care, desperation clawed at him, "never really said hello."

She moved closer to him and placed a hand on either side of his face. His green eyes shone bright with unshed tears and fright. He shook his head and pulled back.

"No –" his voice wavering.

"Let's do this right this time."

She closed the distance between them; tilted her head; brought her hands back to the sides of his face; pressed her lips to his mouth and kissed him. He stood still – for a moment all his pain and sadness welling up like a black wave; but he raised his hand and gripped the back of her neck; her hair between his fingers in a tight fist and kissed her back, deeply, with all he had. It lasted forever, this kiss, and was gone in an instant. She pulled away, tears spilling from her eyes. He stood frozen and helpless as everything good in the world was being dragged away from him. Knowing there was nothing he could do to make her stay with him. He never had a chance.

"_Don't leave me,"_ the words fell in a whisper from him.

"I have to see this to the end, no matter what I have to do…"

The implications hung heavy in the air but Raphael found he couldn't process anything, maybe he just didn't want to consider what Deborah meant. _No matter what I have to do._ His body and mind had gone numb. She turned and fled from the roof, disappearing into the shadows, the golden tendrils of her hair snapped in the breeze and she was gone.

His knees gave out. He wanted to scream but he couldn't breathe. He opened his bloody palm and stared at the tear-shaped shruiken there. The sharp blade had bit into his flesh at some point, he hadn't even noticed the pain. The agony pouring from his breaking heart overshadowed everything else.

…

Leonardo and Michelangelo walked across the roof top to the edge. Leonardo peered over just in time to see Donatello leaning in and…_kissing_?! April goodbye. He quickly leaned back, shocked as Donatello's beaming face appeared over the edge of the building. His cheeks looked flushed and his mask was askew.

Michelangelo jumped in front of Leonardo. "You shoulda' seen me, Donnie! Too bad you were stuck fixin' April's computer. You missed out on some awesome shredding action, bro."

"Uh, yeah," he chuckled nervously, as he adjusted his mask, "too bad."

Leonardo rolled his eyes and spotted Raphael landing from a jump onto the roof. He could have been mistaken, but it looked as if he was wiping his cheeks. Leonardo watched him with uneasy nerves as he approached but he stood straighter as he got closer to them. He hooked his thumbs into the edge of his belt.

"We done here, ladies?" he asked roughly, his voice sounded strange to Leonardo, strained.

Leonardo studied him; his too bright eyes, his flickering expression as if he were trying to keep a neutral look on his face but not quite managing, the bandage wrapped around his hand. Their eyes met and for a moment panic flashed before his brother's eyes. Leonardo blinked and reached out to pat him on the shoulder.

"Let's go home."

The moon slid lower in the sky as the stars began to fade and four shadows moved with grace and stealth into the sewers beneath the city. Each nursing their wounds and cherishing their small victories in turn.

* * *

**A/N: Well, that's the end of The Long Way Home.**

**God, what an experience it has been writing this. It was my first attempt at writing fanfiction. I want to shout out to all of my readers who were kind enough to leave me reviews along the way. Your encouragement and support gave me the confidence to see this to the end, really making me believe that yes, I can actually write something worth reading. For everyone who followed and favorited, my thanks and gratitude go out to you as well.**

**I plan on continuing writing and maybe Deborah will show up again in future stories. I also hope to bring the confidence I've gained in writing this towards some original fiction, maybe finally realizing my dream to write professionally. **

**In the meantime, there is The Tender Trap featuring my tragic take on Leo and Karai. Again, thank you THANK YOU! XO**


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